


Almost Lover

by EterniteProfonde



Category: South of Nowhere, spashley
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drama, F/F, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, It's more of an excruciatingly snail-paced burn, Slow Burn, Spashley - Freeform, okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 79,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6462310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EterniteProfonde/pseuds/EterniteProfonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the saddest word in the world is almost. I was always an almost. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of sight, out of mind

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline**

_**Flashbacks are in Italics**_.

I could feel the smooth cement caress the underside of the car. You could always know how smooth the cement was by the swift sound of it caressing the wheels

They say time changes everything. That is but a load of crap. Doing things changes things, not doing anything leaves things exactly the way they were. Now, pretending to have done something, leaves you with false beliefs of change, sandcastles that build up beautifully.

My senses always seemed to be so in tune with my surroundings here, as I've already memorized every curve of every road leading to our destination. Once I had turned 16, and was supposed to get a license, I came to a realization that I did not know the roads to anywhere. I realized that every other time I was ever in a car, I had spaced out that I had never paid attention to the directions.

I watch the scenery change, anticipating what's next to come. Everything in life is about anticipation, while anticipation itself is a synonym to a thousand other things. I smiled, bemusedly, frowning at the fact I still remembered. It was the sort of smile that comes after what you've had coming at you, finally arrive. It's handing in your exam, smiling goofily because you failed, and knowing all you did the night before was pretend you've been studying.

The car comes to a stop, and I watch as the windows roll up. "Come on, everyone's going to be so excited to see you." She nudges me in the ribs, and I wince, feeling over-sensitivity claiming every nerve in my body. Enthusiasm was never a personal trait of mine, and most people took it as a sign of arrogance and inability to be pleased, while it were in fact a residue of my insecurity and inability to express how pleased I really am.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose "Really, Dawn, it's been a while since I've last been here." I looked ahead, seeing several cars parked in front of the house, and swallowed heavily as my nervousness increased. "I doubt they'd want to see me after four years." Four years, 4 months, 28 days, going on 22 hours. But who's counting?

"Don't be ridiculous Ashley. Everyone's missed you so much. You know you've always been a part of this family" I repeated the word and involuntarily grumbled. Family's always left a bitter taste in my mouth. Really, the last thing I wanted right now was a big family reunion. I don't think I can ever survive the interrogation, even less, survive an apathetic lack of thereof.

She pulled my seatbelt off, yanked her door open and trudged out of the car. "Stop being such a kill joy and move your butt already before we freeze out here."

I look up at her, my sight stopping at her neck, her face not visible as she stands so close to my window before she opens my door, and I leave my safe confinement. Maybe that's what's been ruining my life, my incessant search for safety and my inability to pick something to actually play its decent role

"Every party needs one, eh?" I joked shortly, nervously securing the scarf around my neck so it covered as much of my skin as possible.I resented myself for giving in too easily, but the idea of time wasted upon unnecessary things always annoyed me. And I knew the little pseudo-fight I've displayed in the airport and was about to redisplay now was unnecessary. I wanted to go in there more than anything I've ever wanted. Well, not quite, but close enough.

I breathed in, feeling a little sob-resembling-inhale as the freezing air teased my lungs. I smiled again, albeit a little shakily. I love the cold. I love this particular cold. Practice makes perfect, they say. And God's witnessed how many nights of freezing cold I've spent here.

We reached the mahogany redwood door and I found myself smiling again as I caught sight of the slightly open window.

_"I can't believe you forgot your keys again." I never understood it when people forget their keys. It was just as important as getting dressed, seeing as both would lead you to being forced to sleep outside._

" _Seriously Carlin, I'm starting to think you like seeing me risk breaking my neck while trying to climb through that window." I shot her a disapproving look, with my trademark raised eyebrow. I'd climb through that window anytime, gladly and happily, but one could always try and save what little show of will they had left._

_"Fine, move over, I'll do it" She placed her open palm on my shoulder, not truly pushing me out of the way, but applying enough force for me to feel it, and my body instinctively followed her retreating hand like a magnet._

_She knew I wouldn't let her go through that window, and I started to believe she was humoring my show of will, all of them._

_I moved towards the window, throwing a sideways glance at her. "You can barely step through the actual door without risking breaking your neck."_

_I saw her smile before pretending to ignore my comment "Will you just climb in and open the door for us already, Davies"_

I winced at the far away memory, before leaning in, automatically checking the window sill for a certain etching.

" _We look before and after and pine for what is not, our sincerest laughter with some pain is fraught, our sweetest songs tell of the saddest thought"_. I traced the faded engravings with my finger. I looked up, seeing my smiling reflection in the window glass and retracted my fingers with a sigh.

I found myself smiling a little more than anticipated. Everything in life is about anticipation. And once you start anticipating wrong, the danger sirens start wailing. And I was starting to think my warning-system was broken, or just never truly existed.

I had already given up on trying to fight these memory lane attacks whenever they barged into my consciousness. They seemed so frequent before, so out of place, so unfitted everywhere. I've come to realize that this is just what my feelings are like without her, so out of place and unfitted.

Dawn didn't bother to knock as the door was typically open ajar. We stepped in, taking two short strides inside. I looked to my right, where I knew a double door would be open, and found it surprisingly closed. Anticipations. They finally got the chimney room's double door fixed. I took a swift look around, getting reacquainted with the familiar space. The colors had a warmer aura to them now, brown and autumn gold. Anticipations.

I chuckled at the naked baby picture hung on the wall at the end of the hallway. Some things never change, and we secretly hope they never do, because that will give us the much needed excuse for never having to grow up, for never having to re-adapt.

There were numerous voices meddling, coming from the living room. I recognized Paula's quite distinguished one, as it was obviously leading whatever debate was going in there. It was authoritative , yet motherly. I always thought of her as a second mother, or a first. I laughed internally at my always crude joke; cause me, and the feelings I have, that would be so illegal.

"Guys" shouted Dawn, and I found myself instantly growing hyperacousis as my whole body shuddered at the loud sound before the deafening silence that followed it made it prickle. Dawn's always been quite the firecracker. She was the only one I've kept in touch with over the last four years, as we kept emailing each other after my departure. The fact that she was her cousin might've had something to do with me keeping in touch with her of all people, but I've always been known for my selfishness.

I felt my ears almost physically perk up as I heard what could've been her voice, but I didn't know much about her now. I've tamed myself enough so I could stop myself from asking about her, from making the slightest tiniest reaction whenever conversations take turns towards her. I even moved my tamed self to a whole other zip code.

But it all seemed too silly now, as my own silly heart did its own silly happy dance at the mere closeness of her. I always feared it'll all be in vain. All that I've done, all the distance that I've put, all the risks I've taken, the chances, the changes. All so I'd stay away from her.

And it was, all of it. But I really can't bring myself to care about my actions, my feelings or anything that wasn't her. I never could whenever she was in such close proximity.

We walked the length of the hallway, the parquet floors letting out a hushed squeak under Dawn's light footsteps and a loud sound of protest under my heavy jet-lag ones.

I placed my arm on Dawn's lower back in silence plea for her to walk in first. I was never one for big entrances, and certainly wasn't about to delve into that experience today. I should be, seeing as I've just graduated with honors from one of France's most prestigious universities, but really, not today.

I watched as Dawn disappeared around the swerve of the living room door, but caught sight of her in the adjacent mirror as she bounced on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands, "I brought a surprise."

I felt the few seconds of silence that followed her announcement harshly tug at the prickles on my skin, as they suddenly set fire to my nerve endings, shattering what little obedience my clumsy limbs ever accorded me, as they refused to follow my pleas to move. I pitied all the paralyzed people in the world feeling miserable because of their condition, whereas I rejoiced in what little time mine offered me.

I swallowed and walked in, barely keeping my stance, my two pair of feet feeling inadequate in their role today as four pairs of eyes made them wobble. I give a tiny inadequate and involuntary wave. Four years is a long time, it's only polite to say hello.

And then my eyes met hers. She was sitting on the couch, one leg curled under her. Cerulean depth boring into me, squeezing their way unknowingly through my veins and cutting my blood pressure making me feel lightheaded. With all the symptoms manifesting in me today, one would think I was on my death bed, which would have answered just fine to the death wish I was experiencing at the moment.

I winced. In vain, all of it. I could see her heart-shaped lips move, but there wasn't much I could do to will my utter concentration from her sapphire orbs and listen. I willed my mind to focus elsewhere but all I could hear was a measly country-singing voice singing "and if you were an ocean I'd learn to float" I almost laughed at the oddity of it. I hated that voice, I hated that song, but one look at her and I was mentally chanting it.

"Ashley." She whispered breathily. In vain, all of it.

I mustered a smile, cause really that's all I've ever done whenever I caught sight of her. "Hey Spencer"

Some things just never change. And we secretly wish they never do.


	2. Nowhere is actually somewhere

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline**

**Flashbacks are in** _**Italics.** _

_I walked slightly faster, hasty to get home. I've been walking for quite some time now, and it was starting to get really cold. I rubbed my palms together, trying to relish in the heat that emitted from the simple friction._

_I lifted my hands up to eye level, and brought my two index fingers closer. I always liked the little optical illusion they gave, the one that made it seem like they were merging together at the surface._

_I reached the smooth curve of the road and saw the familiar silver SUV parked dangerously close to the curb. I figured there was only one person who'd obsess enough to park it that geometrically correct._

_I ran up the few stairs to the neighbors' house, feeling my frustration physically leave my body as my breath came out in grey heaps before dissolving in the cold night. I slowly climbed the last few steps, straightening my clothes. I always felt somehow unnerved by my excitement, or any display of positive emotion. I didn't know what it was that bothered me, that I actually cared as much as I did or that people would see that it.  
_

_I put my forehead against the door, and let out the sigh that has been yearning to be free. I was tired, absolutely drained. I was on the verge of losing whatever energy I could still muster, and this felt like the opportunity to recharge. The fact that I was stepping out of an empty confinement, to a world filled with confusion and doubt was exactly the cure I needed._

_I pushed open the front door, peeking inside, and instantly heard a set of feet stumbling rapidly towards me before a weight threw itself right into me. I fell backwards, landing with tiny oomph on the floor, before being pinned down by the shoulders and having my cheeks covered with moister._

_I squirmed, giggling before trying to escape the enthusiastic greeting. "I've missed you too, boy" I ran my fingers down the adorable fluffy ears, curling them in the short fur of the brown Labrador's neck. I heard a throaty laugh before Diego was being dragged off of me. "Okay, that's enough kisses for one night" Paula cooed at the large dog, pulling him back by the collar. She offered me her other hand, helping me on my feet before embracing me with both arms. "Ashley, merry Christmas, sweetheart"_

_We pulled apart, walking towards the living room with Diego trailing behind us. Paula stopped, turning to look behind me, and I followed suit, only not seeing anything._ " _Where's Spencer?" she said, scrunching her nose._

_I raised a questioning eyebrow, smiling uneasily "How am I supposed to know?" She turned back to walk forward, chuckling amusedly "She went over to your house to look for you"_

_I laughed, walking into the living room and taking a seat on the armchair before pulling out my cell phone to text Spencer and tell her I was at her house._ " _She left her phone here." Paula said, removing the few bags of clothes I guessed Spencer put on the couches before taking a seat._

_I was melting in silent bliss, swimming in a pool of mush of my own organs and probably feeding off so much fluff to give anyone a sugar rush. I felt a tiny tingle starting at the pit of my stomach and engulfing my chest as it became hard to breathe anything but the thought of her excitement to see me. It wasn't a bad lack of breath, it was the kind you felt when your chest swilled with something akin to a foreign feeling; contentment._

_I sat in the cozy living room, feeling my nerves jolted back to life one by one. I could feel the electrical current tickling my skin, running down the surface and shaking my every limb in exhilaration, much akin to a boxer getting ready for a fight only mine had supposedly just ended. I tried to keep still as I chatted idly to Paula. I think she knew I wasn't too focused, and refrained from delving into heavy conversation. I finally got myself to calm down enough, and stared intently at Paula, keeping eye contact. There was a certain glint in her eyes that told me she knew exactly why I was so buzzed._

_I looked down at an agitated Diego sitting near my legs, before his ears perked up and he ran to the hallway. We heard the front door rustle as Diego let out an excited bark followed by a little giggle as someone softly chided him to "get down"._

_"Mom, do you know where my cellphone...?" Spencer abruptly cut her sentence short and there was silence for the next few seconds. "Ashley's here, isn't she?" I could hear the smile in her voice, and I wished I could just drown out the world, and drown into that simple sound._

_I got up, meeting her halfway as she stepped into the living room, accommodating my arms to house her form that fit so perfectly against mine. Her arms wrapped around me, before sneaking up and around my neck, pulling me in tightly. I encircled my arms around her waist, not daring to squeeze her as tight. I never did._

_We pulled apart, and I looked at Paula sheepishly. She was watching us with a soft, yet amused look on her face. "Okay…" She rubbed her palms on her thighs, before standing up. "Spence, how about you take Ashley to your room, catch up, while you unpack."_

_I watched Spencer take a few strides around me heading for her bag, and I leant forward, picking it up. She reached to take it, but I shook my head assuring her it was fine. I followed her up to her room, stepping inside as Spencer opened the door and ushered me in. I set the bag on the bed, before turning around to gaze into impossibly close blue eyes. I blinked, flinching back out of surprise, but recovering quickly before returning to my earlier stance._

_She reached for my hands which were at my sides, intertwining our fingers. I could feel my air become intoxicated with her presence as she drew closer still. Her nose grazed my cheek, tickled its way in a path down my jaw line, before the tip softly nudged my pulse point and I faintly heard her inhale. "I could smell your perfume as soon as I stepped into the front door."_

_I felt her fingers sneak up my arms under my sleeves, pressing my wrists once, twice, before retreating to their prior intertwined position with mine. I could feel time trickle down in drops, although her touch lasted a fragment of a moment. The world worked in slow motion when she was around. Everything slowed down, everything, except my heartbeat and thoughts._

" _I've missed you so much, Ashley." I almost didn't catch what she said, thinking it was fabricated, wishful thinking, but the words scribbled on my cheeks in soft whispers couldn't be mistaken._

_I swallowed, playing with the tips of her fingers, feeling her nails softly dig into the tips of mine. "So did I" I leaned back, giving myself room to look into her eyes. "I've missed you too." I clarified, not unnecessarily, because some words always needed to be returned in full._

_I watched as her eyes slowly roamed my face, dipping down from gazing into my own. I waited, longing, waiting, to see where they would land. The moment was cut short as her bedroom door squeaked open, and we saw a furry head peak from behind it as Diego came strolling into the room. The large Lab just sat there, like a pharaoh saying 'carry on, I'll be a quiet observer.' I chuckled at the thought, and turned around only to find sapphire orbs away from my sight and Spencer unpacking_

_xxxxxxxx_

I watched as she straightened her back, her muscles tensing briskly, almost as briskly as her forehead creased in a frown.

Albeit her agape features, she looked composed and almost stoic. I took in her relaxed attire, the long dress flowing in a downpour of gentle colors down her body, as it painfully emphasized how much she's matured, and how awfully I've missed it. She seemed more graceful, poised. But then again, she's always offered a sort of solid posture, seldom was the equilibrium to my own.

I couldn't, neither did I want to stop my eyes from drinking her in. They were quite accustomed to discreetly feeding on her beauty. Drinking, feeding, as if I was reaching for a sort of inaccessible ambrosia

She always oozed with femininity, through that distinct warmth only a woman, or one in the becoming seems to emit with her long slender neck and delicate fingers, with the magnificence of imperfectly sculpted curves and a breathy reverberating voice.

"Surprise" I looked at Dawn smiling softly as I saw her with her hands parted in a theatrical move, hearing the tension in her seemed to recover the shock quickly, as he shut out of his seat and pulled me in a bear hug. I patted his shoulders a couple of times, feeling awkward. "Dude, you cannot just leave your buddy in womenland all by himself like that."

"She is a woman, stupid" Dawn shot back, and Glen pretended to think about it for a second. I was grateful for their sweet attempt to break the ice, but their little effort seemed to be lacking as Paula and next to her Kyla seemed to be staring at me almost dumbfound.

Paula was next in line to come hither. She seemed to sense my nervousness, and didn't wait for me to come closer, as she stepped all the way to me and hesitated for a second, looking at me for permission before wrapping me in her arms. I hated to think she thought I would refuse her, but I couldn't really blame her.

I returned the hug, much less awkwardly than that of Glen. I pulled back, daring a glance at Kyla over Paula's shoulder. I thought I could almost see a small smile on her face, but as soon as our eyes met, her features hardened. "You're back." She said shortly. She crossed her arms against her chest, and I pocketed mine, not knowing how to react. "Can't really expect you to say you were coming back, seeing as you never said you were leaving."

I winced inwardly at the bitter tone in her voice. But then again, I couldn't blame her either. Kyla was Spencer's cousin, and like a surrogate sister to me ever since her parents passed away and she joined the Carlin household. I looked down, but felt Paula's hand softly squeeze my shoulder. She was giving Kyla a stern look, and I almost smiled at the familiarity of the sight, before seeing I was receiving the same stern look myself. "I'm sure Ashley has a good reason that she'll share with us when she's ready."

I opened my mouth, but closed it again when I realized I had nothing to say for that. I nodded my head, for self assurance rather than acceptance. Paula turned to look at Spencer, and I noticed her stance hadn't changed, neither was it about to apparently. "We'll continue our discussion later, Spencer."

She turned back to me, smiling. "You're joining for dinner, of course." I rushed to excuse myself, having absolutely no intention of allowing the on going potential investigation of taking place. "I really have to get going…" I looked up seeing Paula's left eyebrow raised and her lips dressed in a thin line. "But dinner would be lovely."

xxxxxxxxxx

We sat at the dining table, the atmosphere filled with the sound of forks and knives clattering against plates. I looked up from mine, seeing almost everyone besides Paula pushing their food around. The oddity of it all almost made me smile until I caught sight of Spencer in the seat facing mine.

She still hasn't said a word after her short breathing out of my name. She just sat in her chair, not even bothering to play with the food or look at it. Her gaze was by now adept at burning holes through the napkin that she was already tearing through with her fingers.

It bothered me to think I was the cause of all that, eeriness, creeping in and slaughtering the ambiance. I left because of this. I left so I'd never be the cause of similar situations again.

"So, Ashley" I spun my neck so fast, feeling the familiar twinge of pain that happened whenever a sudden movement like that one took place. I watched Paula, waiting for her to continue as she wiped her mouth with her napkin before folding it neatly and placing it beside her plate. I cleared my throat, my eyebrows involuntarily rising as I struggled to swallow with a hoarse and dry throat. When she noticed I wasn't about to take any initiative again, she proceeded to ask me of my whereabouts.

I felt my bones crack before the sound of me cracking my fingers was heard. It was a nervous habit long acquired. I proceeded to manhandle, quite painfully at that, the rest of my fingers. "Well, I was offered a scholarship to France, and well, that's that." I stuttered out, quite aware of the inadequacy of my answer.

"And why are you back?" I shifted to my other hand, continuing my the painful ministration while ignoring the still bitter tone that framed Kyla's question. "Well, I just graduated a week ago." I tried to sound cheerful, which I was. I was happy to have graduated. Psychology was something I was truly passionate about, and I realized I was one of the few who get the chance to actually have a career in something they truly loved.

I felt a hand cover mine, and I knew it was Paula's. It wasn't instinct, it wasn't a hunch. It wasn't a habit or me being familiar with her touch. It was just the fact I knew no one else would do that at the moment. She was looking at me so intensely and I felt my breathing grow heavy instantly. It was one of those moments when you knew something bad is about to happen, not because you don't want it to happen, but because you can't handle it. "Sweetheart, I just don't understand what happened. I thought you knew you were a part of this family. Why did you just leave like that?"

I drew in a long breath, which turned rugged as the sound of a heavy chair scrapping back against the floor was heard, and with that Spencer had disappeared out of the dining room.


	3. Carpe Diem, perhaps.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline**

_**Flashbacks are in Italics.** _

It's strange, the feeling of familiarity one gets after they receive an answer to a question they've asked. It's because we ask questions to answers we know, think we know, or hope we do. We never truly question what we don't know, because we're afraid the answers might change what we do know. It's a lying wonder, disguised with a misleading ignorance that manifests itself in an honest show of interest.

We are only ever taken by surprise when the answers we get, are to questions we never asked.

"I guess that proves my theory of how awful Aunt Paula's food is." Dawn said, as all eyes shifted from staring at Spencer's chair that still rattled from the force of the shove to her sheepish smile.

It wasn't long before her face contorted in an apologetic smile, thrown my way. Eh, at least she was trying to help.

The air was fogged up with the heavy tension, making it hard to see as my sinking heart pulled me down the surface and even harder to hear as my screeching thoughts blared through my being.

"What's with her?" I frowned, thinking the question was directed at me, when it was obviously aimed at Spencer's disappearance. Funny, how guilt works.

I looked up, seeing Glen's face scrunched up in genuine wonder and shook my head. "And the award for stupid obvious questions goes to…" Dawn fills in as cheerfully. I almost chuckled, before I remembered what it was that was actually up. If that wasn't a recurring disappearance scene, then I'm what's up, obviously.

"I'm sorry honey, she's just, you know…" I watched Paula's wrist flick about in the air, pointing at me before doing a little detour to point around. "I'll go check on her."

I leap up, placing my hand above hers on the table, stopping her mid rise. "No." I pressed down on her shoulders softly, guiding her back down. "I'll do it." I felt all eyes bore into the back of my head as I turned to go find Spencer. The waves of pity trickled down my spine like ice cold water and got a sudden urge to announce 'dead man walking" as it felt like I was heading towards my demise.

I didn't want to take the place back in, did not want to absorb it, to indulge in my presence in it. I let my tired feet guide me through as they automatically. I knew odds were scarce I'd find Spencer out back, but I guessed my feet were trying to buy me some time by prolonging the search.

I pushed the door open, feeling the humid air instantly bite at my skin. I threw a swift look around, checking for any presence besides mine and halted my scan upon seeing the dog house, empty of its owner and looked around in slight panic for Diego.

I turned, marching back inside and before I could stop myself I was inside the chimney room. I looked around, marveling at the familiarity that stabbed deeply into my core. I lowered my head, my eyes closed, opening them again after a composing second, intending to march out. I gazed at my feet, the heel hidden as it sunk into the soft red carpet.

_I felt the fabric tickling my fingertips as they dug into it. I loosened them, placing my open palms down on it, liking the feel of the soft tissue's curvature and malleable nature. I always liked the simplicity that came alone with just being sprawled on the floor, even more a rug covered one._

_I turned my head to the right, watching as her features did nothing to honor the beautiful glow emitting from the chimney, if anything, they put it to shame. I sighed, the sound suffocated by the symphony of crackling wood and flares incinerating. She shifted closer, resting her head on my shoulder._

_We've been sitting here for hours, the weather outside not really allowing anything but inside activities. The storm hadn't calmed down in about 4 hours straight. I watched as Diego sat near the glass doors, watching the storm shed violence upon earth. He whimpered as another crack of thunder resonated and ambled back towards us to lie down._

_I loved this particular contrast, the pure rage outside and the incredible serenity soaking us through in here._

_I felt her shift again, before the weight on my shoulder lessened. She laid on her back and smiled as she stared at the ceiling._

" _It's autumn, the wind's a tad bit chilly and it's quite bright with little miniscule suns." I frowned, not quite following. It was winter, the wind's ice cold and it was 2 in the morning with not one star in the horizon._

_I heard her sigh softly, contently, before her voice took on a breathier tone "It's a wooden path we're sprawled on, with trees beautifully drawing the edges of it. There's a little bench not too far, but we've decided the floor was a better idea."  
_

_I finally caught on, she was imagining a different place, a different time. I watched as she pointed up at the ceiling, her long slender fingers looking as if they could touch it from her place on the floor._

" _There's little multicolored lights coming through from behind the trees, just enough for me to make out your beautiful features. And, we're stargazing." It was moments like these that I knew why I was in love with her. It was little things like these that made all this big blur of a motion clear to me. Because she was all things passion, and I was all things stagnant. Because she was all things carefree, and I was all things torpid. Because I longed for her, for her speaking silence to awaken my dormant one._

_I felt her shift again, and her head was back on my shoulder. I craned my neck, just enough to be able to place my forehead against her head._

" _How'd Christmas eve' go?" she hesitantly asked._

_I was as hesitant to answer as she was to ask. I didn't know why though, nothing wrong happened. But then again, nothing good happened either. I shrugged, she couldn't see it from her position, but she must've felt it. "It was fine."_

_I felt her fingers nudge my fingers, before her hand landed on top of my hand. She laced her fingers through mine, bringing them to lie on her stomach. "How fine?" she prodded gently, scratching her nails against my open palm._

_I cleared my throat to get rid of the heavy feelings both her questions and ministrations were doing to me. "I had dinner with my parents. It was…" I drew in a breath, searching for the right word. I pondered upon a few, silent, tense, awkward, useless, before settling on neutral ground "fine."_

_She sighed, and I hated the less contented edge to it this time. But I was grateful when she didn't push further. Her fingers stopped their heavenly tending, but she held my hand firmly in hers. She was on her side now, facing me. I turned my head towards her as soon as I felt her warm breath on my cheek._

" _I'm sorry we didn't come back sooner, Ashley." I frowned, not liking the implication of what she was saying. It wasn't her fault. There was no way out of that dinner, and even if there were. In and out, here or not, it made no difference at all._

_I cupped her face, my thumb tracing her brow softly before retreating to settle on a warm cheek. "You came back just in time."_

I turned, heading towards the living room at the sound of a paper tearing. There she was, sat on the ground, with her back leaning against the couch. She was staring down at the paper, with a pen held a little too tightly between her fingers. I could tell she was a little too concentrated on her task, and I took the opportunity to quench a long overdue addiction.

I took her in, like a child takes in the world for the first time. Infants do not actually make the distinction between themselves and their entourage. To them, all is one. They are what they see. It is not until one becomes about 8 months old that they are able to comprehend their own existence as a separate one from the outside world.

I was 8 months old and only just separated from the world I lived in, a world where only she existed and everything else was seen through her, just like staring through the hourglass. Someone once said that a woman, in her glorious curvaceous form was meant to look like an hourglass, whose trickling running sands flew you to a world where slowly circling hours were untouchable.

I leaned against the wall, listening to the quite 'thud thud' that resonated as she continuously drummed her pen against her notebook. I could feel her frustration building, as whatever she was meant to be doing wasn't coming along. I couldn't make out her features, as her silky hair, that I noticed had gotten a darker shade of blonde framed her face.

I straightened my stance, purposely thumping my foot a little too loudly on the floor to gain her attention. She looked up, achingly slow, and I worried she must've known I was standing there. When her eyes met mine so casually, I was sure.

I was quick to try and hide my confusion, but I knew my features would've betrayed me. They always did. She must've seen it, because her lips twitched in a small barely there smile. "You still wear the same perfume." Tension, filling my throat. I coughed, trying to regain my voice, and staggering. I shifted, looking back, and seeing the hallway that lead to the kitchen.

"I, was out back and I saw Diego's kennel." I took a few steps, stopping at the back of the arm chair, and leaning my elbows against it.

"He's fine. I took him with me to my apartment after I moved out." I nodded, grateful she seemed to guess at my question before I spoke it. I was having trouble speaking, seeing as my brain was insistent on engaging in a conversation all on its own. I was staggering, not knowing if I should answer to what was spoken, or all that was left unspoken.

"They were worried when you just took off like that." I almost grimaced at the awkwardness of that statement, because once upon a time, I would've traded that 'they' for an 'I' without a moment's hesitation.

She nodded, before looking back down at her paper. I watched her, and when it became obvious she had no intention of speaking I decided to prod. "Your mom wanted to come look for you."

She looked up, her gaze questioning, and I guessed she was trying to figure out why I was still there. She drummed her pen on her paper a few more times, before pointing at it. "I remembered I had to do something for work."

I nodded, looking down at her paper and around at the stacks surrounding her. "I'm a literary critique. I write books reviews." She looked neutral, as if automated.I nodded again, this time both inwardly impressed and happy for her, happy for me. Spencer was 2 years older than me, and I was around when she decided to major in English Literature. Books were always one of her passions, and I was glad that hasn't changed.

I didn't know how to evaluate the situation. I didn't know if I should feel unnerved by how transparent I seemed to be, or happy of how in tune she was with my train of thoughts. But either ways, there was nothing good about her stopping me from speaking each time I tried.

A hand on my shoulder snapped me out of my daze, and I found Paula standing near me. I guessed I had taken a little too long, because everyone else seemed to be present. She turned to Spencer, letting out a sigh. "Spencer, we need to attend to matters at hand. Your father will be back in a few weeks, we can't delay any more."

I looked from Paula to Spencer, frowning as Spencer's features seemed to go from their earlier neutral state, to a highly tense one then quickly back to neutral.

I pushed back from my hunched position, placing my hand gently on Paula's arm. "I think I better get going." I felt Paula's hand close around my wrist. "Don't feel obliged to, Ashley. It's fine, you're practically family." I tried to object, not wanting to impose when it seemed they were about to discuss something serious.

"Are you leaving already, Ashley?" It was Kyla's voice that made me look up. She was looking at me with such hopeful eyes that I had to make an effort to swallow. Kyla had always been one of my few weaknesses, and this was a rare one I didn't mind.

I let Paula guide me to the couch, and I found myself seated next to Spencer that had now moved from the floor. I was staring down at my hands resting in my lap, when I chanced a look at Spencer's paper.

"People are always shouting they want to create a better future. It's not true. The future is an apathetic void of no interest to anyone. The past is full of life, eager to irritate us, provoke and insult us, tempt us to destroy or repaint it. The only reason people want to be masters of the future is to change the past..." Milan Kundera, The book of Laughter and Forgetting.

I winced at the sinking sensation that came along with reading that. The future holds no interest to anyone, neither does the present. We are nostalgic creatures, treading lightly on the linear thread that is time, only always a few steps behind, living things in always in retrospect, always living the present a moment too late.

I think it wise to blame it all on fear. I've come to a conclusion, a fake one, but a conclusion nevertheless that it all comes down to fear.

We are fearful creatures after all. An eye will blink at the smallest sudden movement, even at the tiniest screeching noise.

I always feared I'd end up alone, just like it's always turned out to be for me. You'd think I was used to it, seeing as my parents were never around. They were both good people, but just not a good mixture.

They just wouldn't give up on each other though. I often wished they would. Because sometimes, letting go was the only way out.

I guessed that's where I got my stubborn streak from. And I've learned it the hard way. Sometimes love is just not enough.

"So, what are we going to do?" Glen asked, and I was snapped out of my thoughts by the urge to laugh at his repetitive short questions. I stopped myself when I saw the obvious look of discomfort on his face. He didn't seem too keen on going through whatever it is they were about to go through.

Spencer snorted next to me, looking at Glen bitterly "Easy for you to ask so casually." She shook her head, looking down. "You're not the one having to go through with this."

I watched Glen swallow whatever snap he was about to say, and looked to my left seeing Paula as expected giving him a look. Her features instantly softened as she turned to Spencer. "Baby, please calm down. It's not as if I'm going to let you marry some random stranger."

"Marry?" I looked up, seeing everyone's gaze fixated at me. I groaned silently, guessing I said that out loud. "Who's marrying who?"

Spencer shot out of her seat, her feet thudding loudly on the carpeted floor as she paced forcefully "I am" She said, her arms flailing about. "I'm marrying who." I almost chuckled at the lame joke, but her face was devoid of humor. It was murderous, and I didn't know to sympathize or be very afraid.

"Spencer has to get married within a month." It was Glen again with the expressive short statements. She flinched, turning swiftly to stare at him open mouthed. She shook her head, her features losing their neutrality for once as they contorted in sadness.

Dawn reached over, smacking Glen upside the head. "Could you stop being captain obvious, dumbass?"

I sighed in relief. I had no right to, but I felt like a ton was lifted off my chest seeing how bemused the whole thing made everyone. I looked at Paula, seeing how torn up she was. She met my eyes, smiling sadly at me. "My father's estate is being liquidated in a month, and Spencer's been appointed the sole inheritor. The only condition is, she has to be married by the time she is 25. If she fails to do so, the firms will be put through public liquidation." Old and deceased men trying to control what little of the future they can even after their death. Power really is the vice of men.

I was holding my breath in, I realized. Some things you just wish you never walk into, and never know. "But Spencer doesn't turn 25 until October" I chip in hopefully, offering what little hope I could to an absurdly hopeless situation. Paula nods knowingly, her expression not changing "But the marriage and paperwork will take some time to become official" She adds in, cutting me off.

"I don't have to do this, just to answer to the perverse amusement of a dying old man." Spencer continues from her place, pacing the middle of the room. "I have a career that I love, and that provides for me, I don't need to be the one preserving this estate for the cushy futures of everyone, and so Glen can carry on with his aimless ambitions of taking over one day"

Glen lets out a rather loud yelp of indignation that is yet again cut off by Paula before she sighs next to me before she marches over towards Spencer, halting her pacing with a hand against her arm. "I don't want you to be doing this either, Spencer. But it'll only be a formal arrangement, no more, no less." I watch Spencer pull her hand back, shaking her head. "This formal arrangement you're talking about is my life, mom. My life, my intimacy, my routine"

"I'd do it." Glen chips in rather helplessly and idiotically, and by the head swift of everyone, I would wager they agree. "Of course you would" Spencer throws harshly at him "How else would you ever get to go on your first ever date with a girl?"

"Not cool, bro" He says meekly and she eyes him dully. "Oh my God." I felt a pair of arms close around my shoulders and I turn my head to stare strangely at Dawn's enthusiastic outburst "You can do that, Ash." I look questionably at her, frowning at her sudden joyous attitude. "You can marry, Spencer."

I laugh, pulling her arm off my shoulders, and returning the offending limbs to their own space " Oh, sweetie" I patted her shoulder for good measures. "You've finally burst that main vein. I was wondering what was taking you so long."

She slaps my hand away, turning to Paula grinning "Ashley's perfect for this, Auntie." She ushers between Spencer and I wildly. "They'll sign some papers, play house, and call the thing off eventually" I was shaking my head, trying to shed some light to the dubious situation "If it's that simple, why don't you do it?"

She looks at me skeptically, like a mother trying to explain to her child why they shouldn't get close to a fire "Because I'm her cousin" She says very slowly "And before you go about naming the others, Kyla's her cousin too" She smiles a bit too gleefully "Also underage. And the dumbass is her brother." I shook my head, refusing to see the humor. She smiles apologetically, but I could feel she was still trying to coax me in. "A prestigious psychologist like yourself should know the dangers of incest."

"Ashley, you are perfect for this." I could hear the bones in my neck almost ultimately snap as it violently rotated, and I almost wished for a second that it had broken. I was met with Paula's thoughtful features staring at me. I covered my face with my hands, putting pressure on my temples and rubbing in circles. I chanced a look at Spencer, but her eyes were trained on the window. She turned around, her forehead knotted in a deep frown. At least one Carlin thought this was as crazy as I did.


	4. As above so below, as within so without

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline.**

_**Flashbacks are in italics.** _

_I felt the couch dip as her body settled facing mine. She sat with one leg curled under her,_ _its knee nudging mine._

_She was fidgeting, her fingers clumsily closing only to loosen around a too long sleeve. Whatever she wanted to talk about was obviously important._

_I touched her knee, squeezing it, but it didn't catch her attention. "Kyla." I called out her name softly, but still, she looked down at her squirming digits. I reached forward, putting my index finger under her chin and tilting her head up. "Sweetie…" She looked at me, her eyes hesitantly meeting mine. I was relieved when I caught a tiny smile, barely, but there._

_I was waiting for Spencer to get ready, and noticed Kyla was edgy. And when I tried to see if something was wrong, she caved and asked if we could talk for a little bit. I knew Kyla needed encouragement so she would talk. But I never could prod people or pressure them into something. I hated it when someone did it to me, and I was just unable to do it myself._

_So I gave her time, I gave it time, gave myself time. But I think I always gave time, too much, I must've abused it to the point of no return._

" _Ashley" her voice was small and timid as she called my name. I had been already staring at her, so I just tilted my head so she'd know she had my utter attention._ " _Ashley, how do you know if someone likes you?"_

_I almost burst out laughing right then. Her head was now slightly tilted to the left, being my own's parallel. She looked like a teddy bear. A confused, struck by love for the first time, 14 years old teddy bear._

_I felt my heart swell with realization that Kyla would want to talk to me about this. I laughed inwardly knowing Spencer would probably combust if Kyla went to her with that. She was always so overly protective of her, and I found it utterly endearing that it would always burn every little bit of common sense and wits she had about her. She'd probably threaten the guy if he did like her, or beat him up if he dared not to. It wasn't the overbearing kind of protectiveness, and I knew Kyla didn't mind it. Ever since their car accident when Kyla was 9, and after Karen and Michael, Kyla's parents passed, their connection grew tenfold._

_I leaned back against the cushions, now that I was relieved matters were not perilous. I bit my lower lip trying to think things through. "It depends, really. Some people are open about the way they feel, and others are more discreet." She was looking at me, and I could see she had a lot to say. "And even then, you can always tell, somehow. Things are bound to escape one's hold in tiny signs"_

_She was looking at me intently, and I looked back, as hard as it was to do so. I was told I made people uneasy, with the way I kept eye contact. I was afraid of eye contact, and thus kept it. I looked people in the eyes, so they wouldn't do it to me when I least expected it._

" _I know your secret, Ash." I frowned, my head tilting in a questioning manner. "Do you, now?"_

_She turned, uncurling her leg from under her and sitting Indian style facing me on the couch. "Why don't you just tell her?"_

_I opened my mouth, ready to answer, before it hit me what we were talking about. Kyla was downright telling me she knew I was in love with Spencer. I didn't want to answer her, because that particular something, I wanted to not think about, and never be tempted to do. Kyla knew. She knew, and wanted to know why I haven't told Spencer yet._

_I looked at her, and she was staring at me with only wonder and care. "I don't know Ky, it's just complicated." I left it at that, and I hated myself for doing so. I didn't want to be one of those people who would make her feel young and unable to fathom things, saying things were too complicated for her to understand. But things were complicated, way too complicated that even I didn't understand them when I lived amongst their presence._

_I looked at her, and I could see she understood that it wasn't that I did not want to answer her, but that I did not have an answer to give. She leaned both elbows on her thighs, using the base of her palms to support her head. "I think I like someone."_

_I smiled, both at the cuteness of the statement and the relief to be away from the previous topic "Does this someone relate to the other someone mentioned before?" She nodded, her elbows dropped and her hands going back to their fidgety state. "Her name's Kim. She's in my English class."_

_Oh, that explained a lot. I smiled, reaching forward and grasping her hands in mine. I gave them a squeeze, my smile widening and her eyes landed on my face._ " _Do you think she likes you too?"_

_She got an instant dreamy look on her face as she thought about my question. I smiled even wider, if possible, seeing the beginning of a daydream filled with her and this Kim about to take place. "I don't know, Ash. I mean we get along great. She always sits next to me in class, even comes by my lunch table sometimes to chat or say hi. And I always catch her staring at me." She stopped, breathing in deeply after her little speech. "It's kinda like with you and Spencer."_

_I chose to ignore her last comment, trying to stay focused on one dilemma. "You seem to have all your answers right there, sweetie."_

_She nodded excitedly, smiling, and I knew she did not need to talk to me for anything other than support, and the relief of having someone share your tiny secret. "Do you think Aunt Paula will be mad at me if I bring this up?" She was looking at me and I could see this hopeful glint in her eyes. I wanted to tell her no, that she wouldn't, but I couldn't give her that assurance, even if I knew that Paula would support Kyla._

_"How about you wait a little before doing that?" She nodded, but I could see she wasn't convinced. "Just to see how things with Kim turn out." She looked down "You think She'd hate me?"_

_I knew she meant Paula, and not Kim, and I grabbed her now fidgety fingers again with one hand, and cupped her cheek with the other. "Paula would never ever hate you, sweetheart." I caressed her face, watching her features softening again. "Besides, loving is loving. And you have the biggest, most loving heart I know. But you just need to take your time before rushing into decisions. Just until things are clear, for you."_

_We heard Spencer's door opening before closing again, as the sound of her footsteps grew closer. "You should really think about telling Spencer, you know"_

_xxxxxxxx_

I was still sat on the couch, bent forward, head almost between my knees. To the outside eye, I was trying to think things through. To my screaming inside consciousness, I was trying to stop myself from bolting up and fleeing.

I straightened my back, leaning back against the cushions, before quickly bending forward again. This couch suddenly felt like sharp needles. I sighed, cursing it, hating that this was one thing that had to change too. I always loved this couch. It was one of those couches that swallowed you whole when you sat down. You could actually feel the tissue accommodating you in, bending and shaping around you like a second skin.

I reached for Spencer's notepad on the coffee table in front of me. I was beyond caring about permissions right now. And somehow I didn't think she would mind. I just wanted to distract myself from the chatter I could hear going on around me.

I flipped the first paper over, having already read what was there, stopping at a second saying.

"We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always a sketch. No sketch is not quite the right word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch of nothing, an outline with no picture" Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being-

I traced the words with my fingers. I was never a tactile person. But some things, needed to be touched, to be given form and body in order for your senses to engulf them whole, to absorb them.

I used to dream of becoming a director. When kids wanted to be movie stars and singers, I wanted to be the director. I wanted to be put behind the spotlight. I used to think it was a manifestation of my staggering self-confidence, but later came to realize I wanted to be in control.

Directors were like virtual gods. They put the pieces together, moved them, told them to move. They were in control.

And I wanted to be in control. I wanted to not be affected by things. Not that I was, no. I was not subdued to what others wanted. No. I was my own director. I did what I wanted. I wrote my own script.

But I learnt that the hard way too. There are no writers, no draft papers. There are only impulsive decisions writing the script with permanent ink.

We're all actors. There are no small or big parts. There are only good or bad actors.

_I gaped, my mouth suddenly very heavy. It's quite weird, moments like these. When you know your mouth is dry, yet your mind is screaming at the possibility of drool. Your mouth is dry, because at that one moment, you've seen the ocean, swam in it, and got out dry as a desert._

" _You're wearing a dress." She wore a black halter dress that hung snuggly to her hips, flowing down mid-thigh. Her dark eye shadow accentuated her attire perfectly, emphasizing the blue of her eyes. That was the first time I saw her in a dress. Spencer was always beautiful, full of feminine warmth, but this, this was a preview of the woman, and not the girl._

_She was looking at me shyly, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress, straightening it and trying to pull it down as much as possible. She turned around, re-entering her bedroom, and I followed her._

_I watched as she stood in front of her mirror, placing what I guessed were final touches to her make-up. I frowned, wondering why she was all dressed up all of a sudden. I knew she had a date with Aiden tonight, but she never put this much effort into it before._

_"I look stupid, I know." She was looking at me, through the mirror, and I figured she took my frown the wrong way. "I asked Glen how I looked and he mumbled an okay." I could hear the uncertainty in her voice, and I just shook my head knowing it'd be a lost cause to argue with her._

" _He didn't even bother with a cute, or a simple pretty." She we now seated on the edge of her bed, with her face in a solemn expression. I guessed having jerk-face as a sibling did that to your self-confidence. I sighed but covered it with a snort, meaning to tell her how incredulous I thought the whole thing was "Seriously, Spence? I mean, he dated Madison for godsake, what does he know about cute or pretty"_ _ _She cringed, grimacing. I laughed, because that was what I liked to call a win-win argument. I liked to think of it as my "passe partout" theory. You could negotiate anything with that. Glen's non-existent wits and taste, all the way to world hunger._ I saw a little smile grace her features before adding in a softer voice "or even beautiful."  
_

_She brought her feet together, her hands coming to rest in her lap "How do I look, Ash?"_

_I gulped as soon as she uttered those words. How do I answer that without seeming like a complete love struck idiot. I've been dying to tell her how gorgeous I thought she looked, and now that she asked, I found myself unable to breath, let alone talk. I felt my throat constrict with all the words that have been yearning to get out. I breathed in deeply, looking at the beauty in front of me. I looked at her, knowing that for the rest of the night, someone else would have that privilege and all I could think about was I hoped he enjoyed it half as much as I did._

_But I knew he wouldn't, because we only desire so frantically that which we don't have. And he had her._

" _You look beautiful, sunshine." I've made a habit of it, calling her sunshine. I didn't think anyone apart from us knew I did that. She reminded me of those little suns that would be drawn on cards, with a smiling face. I could never keep the smile off my face whenever I was looking at Spencer. She knew it, and she just loved that fact, even took advantage of it sometimes._

_She smiled, and I watched fascinated as her eyes turned a darker shade of blue "You're biased." I walked towards the bed, sitting down before propping myself against the headboard. "Of course I am."_

_Her smile got warmer, and cleared my throat as it started getting dry again "So when's broody picking you up?" I don't know why I did this to myself. Perhaps because I knew where I stood, and I knew to keep reminding myself of it. It wasn't that I didn't like Aiden, I just liked to think of myself as immune to his brooding charms._

_I've been threw the motion, seen her date guy after guy. But this one just stuck. And he took it for granted. He disappointed her, broke his promises over and over. knowing she'd always forgive him. One day he's her boyfriend, the next they're just friends. It was too messy. And I didn't need anymore mess in my life. So I just kept my thoughts, feelings and self out of it._

_She ignored my use of the all-but-lovable nickname, and crawled next to me, her legs crossed and a pillow fitting in the space between her thighs "He'll call when he's here." She drummed her fingers against the fluffy pillow, giving it a good beating a few times. "Kyla said you're having a movie night." I nodded and she nodded back._ " _Stay until I get back?"_

_I shifted sliding down on the mattress until I could place my head on the pillow in her lap. I looked up at her and she was just as beautiful from my upside down view. I reached up to tuck a stray golden fringe behind her ear, but couldn't get it right from my position. She giggled, trapping my hand between her cheek and shoulder. I kept my eyes locked on her blue orbs, the make-up really bringing out the twinkle in them. "Enjoy your evening, Spence."_

_She left a small kiss on my palm "Only if I have you here to get back home to."_

_xxxxxxx_

_I sat my feet propped up on the coffee table. It was the third drama/sappy movie of the night. Kyla was curled up sleeping on the other couch. I knew this would happen, it did everytime. And with her choice of movies, I couldn't blame her. They're going to fall in love, cry their hearts out, and then someone was going to die. It's like all those writers copied each others' homework._

_I put the TV on mute. I wasn't particularly watching as I was too busy fighting the buzz creeping under my skin and eating away at my thoughts. There were plenty other date nights, but tonight just felt different. It felt too planned for. Maybe because they had been fighting for weeks, for reasons I couldn't, neither did I want to remember._

_I didn't like it when they fought. I didn't like it because she didn't like it. But I couldn't help but feel a little twinge of hope everytime that happened. No matter how absurd it was. I couldn't but love that it was me she needed to calm down. And I couldn't but hate that I would always be second best no matter how multiple were the firsts._

_I heard the front door open and a set of keys rattling as they were place on the sidetable. The sound progressed simultaneously, light footsteps turning heavier, until Spencer's head peeked through the door._

_She beamed "You stayed" and then placed her hand on her mouth so she wouldn't laugh "I see Kyla's had her fun with you again tonight." She pointed at my torso, amusingly. "What was it this time?"_

_I looked down at the shirt I had on. It was Spencer's. It was a wonder I only had to change once tonight Kyla spilled so many things on me that the Carlins did half my laundry. "She spilled juice all over my shirt"_

_She chuckled, and I stared, before I smiled. She looked at Kyla, and then took her shoes off, tiptoeing my way and outstretching her hand. I took it, allowing her to pull me up and guide us towards the front door._

_I was too frustrated with everything that's happened tonight that I had forgotten what today was. She squeezed my hand, opening the front door quietly and leading us outside "It's a full moon tonight."_

_She walked to the far corner of the porch and climbed up standing on the railing. I went after her, standing just below her, my arm wrapping around her calves giving her more balance on the narrow surface. Her arm went around my shoulders and I felt her fingers thread through my locks. We watched the sky in silence for a while. I wasn't going to ask about her date and she wouldn't try to tell me. It was an unspoken routine long acquired. She knew I didn't like Aiden, and she wouldn't talk about that too._

_I pressed my cheek against the side of her leg and sighed. "Think she'll hear us out tonight?" She made it a habit to have a one per month conversation with the full moon. She said that in ancient time, they believed that if you'd offer the full moon a little time, one little smile, it'll gladly repay your month back with a little light of its own._

_We didn't believe it, of course, but we did enjoy moments like these when we could just be ourselves together. "Give it a try, will ya?" She pressed her fingers against my other cheek scrapping her nails against my skin. I shivered at the touch. She pulled me closer to her, wrapping her arm as fully as she could around me. "I want to fall in love. And I want that person to love me back."_

_I looked up, the breathy tone in her voice stopping me from interrupting her. I was glad to just listen at the moment. "I wish that person were you, Ashley. I think you'd make me the happiest I can be. And I don't think anyone can make you as happy as I can."_

_My heart was hammering in my chest. And I knew it would've jumped out of it if not for pure anatomical reasons. Her fingers were dangerously close to my throat and I feared she'd feel my rapidly increasing heartbeats. I willed myself to calm down, trying not to breath in too deeply, knowing if I did so, her scent would only make things worse._

_But then she stilled it all. With one word. It's like a magic word, a password for my psych. "I wish there was some guy-Ashley version out there." I sighed. She needed to stop doing this to me._

_xxxxxx_

I sat on the swing on the Carlin porch. It felt like one of those childhood recalling moments. Only I haven't exactly grown any taller in the last four years, neither was I a particularly a child back then.

I had no idea what to think. I knew I should've said no and just walked away. Hell, I knew I shouldn't have even come back in the first place. It wasn't the right time. I was not ready. And this was proof of how not ready I was. This is what got me here in the first place; my inability to say no and just get on with my life.

I could never rid myself of the guilt that settled in whenever I rejected something or someone, whether I was supposed to be feeling it or not. I knew rejection, and I hated it.

"You could have refused." My eyes closed involuntarily as that voice intruded through my senses. Four years did nothing to the memory. And I'm learning that the hardest way possible.

I didn't turn around, but I craned my neck in recognition. I caught a glimpse of her face and what I could see lay unreadable to me. But she had things to say, that I could tell. I heard the wood creak under her level steps. She got closer, leaning her hips on the railing. I shrugged "Old habits die hard, it seems."

She snorted, her face hardening. "Yes. After all, what are four years?" Her tone dripped with bitterness. A bitterness I never heard directed at me or anyone else really. I almost flinched, and I think I did, but I kept my expression neutral "Let's not do this, Spencer."

She crossed her arms, and I could see the beginning of a frown commence before she quickly reverted to neutral too. "What's there to do? I mean you only just upped and left for four years." She shrugged her shoulders, and I heard another indignant snort. "Just like that, with not one word. Really what is even to do?"

I looked straight ahead, my teeth cringing at the intensity my jaw muscles were locked in. "I don't want to do this now, Spencer" I repeated pointedly again.

"I cannot believe you, Ashley." She raised her arms, dropping them forcefully against the rail. "You packed your bags and left. Just like that. You left your friends, your family." I could see how tight she was hanging unto the railing in my peripheral vision. The silence was deadly that I heard her swallow the heavy bile in her throat. "You left me"

I closed my eyes, fighting another heavy sigh. My knuckles were now ghostly white from how hard I gripped the swing's ropes. "You left way before I did, Spencer."

I heard her scramble as she shot up off the railing "What?" She was now standing in front of me, looking at me like I've been shooting out obscenities "That has nothing to do with it"

I got up so fast from my seat that she stepped back a little "You pushed me out of your life. You pushed yourself out of mine" I could feel my eyes grow moist with unshed anger. I looked down, shaking my head, before sitting back down on the swing. "But you're excused because you were still living here?"

She looked away "I had my reasons. Didn't we both?"

I cracked my knuckles, before bringing both my hands to squeeze my temple. I breathed in again, and again. I was clinging to my right to breath, to oxygen. It was the only thing I was ever assured of in her presence. That at least, I breathed for me, all me. And even that, I was never fully assured of. "I guess I got tired of putting my life on hold until you were ready to figure them a little more delicately. I got a scholarship, so I took it."

She snapped her gaze back to me, looking hurt but I was way beyond caring now "That's not fair. Ashley" She looked down but I caught her whisper "You meant the world to me."

I didn't want to hear the vulnerability in her voice. I didn't want to hear it, because I needed to hear it. I walked the short distance to the railing. I didn't want to make a scene. I didn't come here to make a scene and I knew they could hear us inside by our escalating voices. "And what you did was fair? I tried to understand, I really did."

I heard her walking closer, could practically smell her familiar perfume in the air. I closed my eyes, pushing my feelings to the back of my head. It's too late for this now. It's no use. I looked down to see her hand gripping the railing, right next to mine. "Ashley, I just wasn't prepared nor ready for what was sprung upon me back then."

I looked away from our closely positioned hands, shutting my eyes so tight I could almost see stars. "And I wasn't ready to have my world fall apart. I guess that makes us even."

I turned around, heading back inside. I heard her voice as I reached to grip the doorknob, whispering. "You don't have to do this, Ashley." I sighed "I know. But I owe Paula."


	5. Belle mais infidèle

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline.**

**Flashbacks are in _Italics_**

It's funny how we find ourselves in the midst of finding everything back again, only to lose ourselves in it, through it, all over again. Whereas we spend ages looking for something, chasing it, building it, it takes only a spec of a moment to lose it, wreck it, and forget all about it it.

It's been a week since I got back, a week since I lost my mind again, wrecked four years' worth of change, and forgotten all the plans I had for myself, all the pleas I had asked of myself.

I lifted the cup to my lips, wincing at the sharp edge my black coffee carried. I couldn't find the cream and thus had to make due with what I had. I was once told that was my blessing, though I thought it to be my curse. I made due. I always did. Compromising was my specialty. As for getting what I wanted, I never wanted anything.

I tightened my fingers around the little notebook I held. I'd been berating myself over going through it since last night. I knew it was silly of me, seeing as I had read through it the other day, and Spencer had seen me do it and did not seem to mind, but this time it was different.

I was sat here, alone, my breath now back to being constricted, to staying constricted, and the experience felt intimate. Being alone always made anything, everything, feel that much more intimate. Or perhaps I was afraid. But then again, I was always afraid.

"Tomas did not realize at the time that metaphors are dangerous. Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love." I traced the quote with the tip of my index finger, gently getting the feel of it. It was beautiful. I trailed my eyes downwards, reading what I guessed was Spencer's commentary.

"I've heard that daydreaming is one step closer to conscious suicide. It doesn't require a chaotic scenario, no bullet to the head; no bloody floors and not one toe hanging anywhere off the ground. It only requires a lot of make-beliefs and plenty of metaphors. It doesn't necessarily shut off your heartbeat, but it shuts you off from reality. It's quite the simple procedure. First it starts off with an unbelievable clinginess to your fantasy. Then it evolves into a sudden and quite surprising landing into reality, quickly followed by a feeling of helplessness when trying to re-visit your dreamland.

That on its own, opposite to common belief does not require imagination, it only asks for a cause and a lot of hope.

Yes, hope is not always a good thing."

I found myself chuckling. When had Spencer turned into such a skeptic. But hope, yes, always had been the food of the self-destructive.

Self-destruction sounds scarcely like a remotely universal phase. I've come to realize that it's all really one simple process, goes by the name of growing-up. It's painful, sometimes shocking. It's real. And it rarely goes the way you've planned for it to.

" _How can you be so calm when things are what they are?"_

_I look up at her, sitting on the sofa with legs crossed, and I saw her doing it again; studying me. I didn't like it, but I also didn't like her having to do it so she could a read of me. I longed for her to do, to understand, for me to make her understand, let her in. But I never could, and I knew it frustrated her._

" _Expectations bring disappointment." I shrugged from my place on the floor, placing my chin on her right knee. She shook her head, sighing heavily. "Don't give me that, Ashley." She frowned, but quickly opted on wiping the annoyance of her face._

_"What else do you want me to say, Spencer?" I shifted my head, tucking my hair behind my ears. "It's not going to change anything whether I talk about it or not."_

" _You don't always need to change things to be doing things, Ashley" She trailed her fingers faintly over my cheek, tucking my wild curls behind my ears for me. "You don't need to fix everything."_

_She cupped my cheek, and I knew she could feel my jaw contracting as my teeth bit hard into my tongue, even if metaphorically so._

" _I'd rather see everything go to ruins, than one piece of you broken" I swallowed the tiny sob that threatened to escape under her saccharine words, turning my head slightly to kiss her open palm. I cleared my throat, closing my fingers around her hand on my cheek and dropping them both on her lap. "I'm fine" I smiled, letting her know I appreciated what she said. "Besides, this whole calm demeanor makes me even hotter." I wiggled my eyebrows and she swatted at my hand, rolling her eyes. I hopped off the floor, sitting next to her on the couch my leg curled under me._

_As if on cue, she quickly shifted closer to me, snuggling into my side. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her tighter against me. She sighed into my neck and I shivered. I felt her face move slightly and heard a little 'sorry' mumbled against my shoulder. She knew my neck was my weakest spot. We sat there, and I knew it must've been over an hour before either of us spoke._

_"Stay over tonight" She said as she laced our fingers that were sprawled on my stomach. I weighted the option, before quickly opting against it. "You just want me playing pillow again, Carlin."_

_She lifted her head from my shoulder, leaving a soft kiss on my cheek. "Please."_

" _You make me seem so easy."I shook my head amusedly, knowing I was indeed that easy when it came to her. "You could've at least popped in a second pleading."_

_"Stay tonight and I'll be popping in as many as you want tomorrow." She said as she snuggled in a little closer for emphasize. I sighed, wanting nothing more than to give in to the bittersweet pleas "I would've loved to, but I can't. I need to study, exams start soon"_

_I felt her grip soften and her weight lessen, and knew she had given up on trying for the night. I got up, straightening my clothes and started walking to the door knowing she was following._

_I opened the front door, knowing I was about to be pulled back in, I slightly stumbled backwards when a pair of arms wrapped around my torso. "Call me when you get home" I nodded, kissing her forehead. "Goodnight, sunshine._

I sat on the bed, looking around the unfamiliar room. I've been here before, though not quite enough to take it in. I've spent many nights at the Carlin's, but never have I slept in any of the guestrooms. The beige wallpaper and the dark wooden furniture oozed with warmth and coziness. It wasn't too different from any of the other rooms here, except for the lack of a distinct personal touch.

I had no idea what to do except look around, really. I rarely ever unpacked anywhere, so after retrieving my bag from the car trunk I left it at the foot of the bed.

Unpacking always seemed so final to me. It always felt like some sort of decision. I didn't do decisions, not impulsively anyway. But that improvement seemed to be out the window as soon as I stepped inside this house a week ago.

And just like every other day that has aged around this week, I sat on the little arm chair staring at the painting hung on the wall; a wooden frame of about a meter in length and width, warm oily colors spreading a soothing stir of a motion around it. That was the first glimpse anyone would get of it. I didn't need that first glimpse though; I've already memorized the tiniest most fragile detail gracing that painting.

I've always thought that the most captivating feature this painting offered was how beautiful the figures were. You couldn't really see their faces, there was nothing quite distinct about any of them, but they were gorgeous in their wholesome. I never understood abstract painting or Picasso for that matter. I always figured that life was already too much of an unclear and cryptic thing to handle more abstraction especially in the form of art.

There were three women, a blonde and two brunettes sitting in a library with books and parchments scattered everywhere on an old desk. The blonde sat in a cozy-looking sofa, carrying a book which lay open on her lap. The other two, seemingly listening as the blonde read to them, were leaning against the corner of the desk their heads slightly tilted and touching.

I never understood what it was that got me so attached to this painting, but I could never get enough of it. The colors and their mixture were just wonderful. Whereas I loved winter and adored the rain and the cold, autumn's colors never ceased to amaze me.

I wasn't planning on staying here, in this house so long. But seeing as my parents were away on God knows what, in God knows where, Paula would not have it any other way. I found it extremely hard to deny her anything. And I also couldn't help but find it endearing that she treated me with such motherly authority. It was quite awkward, seeing people often hated being chided or babied, but when she did it, a part of me just loved it.

I heard a soft knock at the door open before Kyla walked in hesitantly, fumbling with her sleeves. I really wanted to walk over and hug her, ruffle her hair maybe, but I kept put, not knowing if my closeness would be welcome. I hadn't seen much of her, what with her being at school and me running some much delayed errands at my coming back.

"I thought you'd want some company, it's too early to sleep" She stood there sheepishly, wantonly, and if I didn't want company, I definitely did by the sight of her. I smiled, ushering her in with a head nod. "Of course, take a seat"

"We could go hang in the living room. You must be sick of your room" She walked back to the door, not waiting for my reply. I chuckled, following her. I knew she was nervous, but it still frightened me how intuitive Kyla is.

She walked barefoot, and I focused on the repetitive 'thud thud' of her feet against the hardwood floor. I sat on the far end of the sofa facing her, my left foot curled underneath me. "This seems too familiar." She turned her attention to the TV, reaching for the remote to turn it off. "Almost like old times"

"It does." I smiled, nodding.

"Listen Ash, I'm sorry about before." She breathed in deeply, and I waited for her to continue, momentarily rejoicing in the fact she had shortened my name. "I was just surprised."

I hadn't meant to distance myself from Kyla. But it was hard keeping in touch with her. I needed distance, and not just the physical kind. I needed to distance myself mentally. "It's okay, I understand." I assured her, because I did, and I had prepared myself for far worse than just that. "You don't need to apologize."

She nodded, biting her lip, her hands now occupied with the hem of her shirt. I watched her frown, clearly battling with her words. "I get it, you know, why you left." She looked up, slightly catching my eyes sadly, before looking down again. "I know things were crazy and everyone was being crazy, but I just wanted to be there for you. You meant as much to me as Spencer did."

I shifted closer to her. I needed her to understand, because even if my leaving was abrupt and maybe even idiotic, I wanted to think that at least it kept things together. "Kyla, I don't blame Spencer. And you shouldn't either." She shook her head letting me know she didn't, and I was relieved to know that was clear.

"I might have been mad about the way things turned out. But I don't blame her. We were young, and I think none of us knew how and what to do. I know I didn't" I reached over and placed the tips of my fingers on her arm. I waited for her to extract it, and when she didn't, I continued. "Ky, you know I always thought of you as my own sister. You were always my little pal."

She started pulling her hand away, only to wrap her fingers around mine and give them a little squeeze. I felt myself smile, and freely allowed it to take over my face for the first time since my return. "Though you know, by the looks of it you're definitely nowhere near a little pal. More like a total hottie." I winked and she blushed.

"Don't flirt with me, Davies, I haven't missed you that much" She was so giddy and excited that I almost cooed. "Besides you're marrying Spencer now. It's like illegal"

I winced, feeling little sounds of protest tickling my throat. It was an anticipated comment, but I've been trying to prevent it "Let's not go there, Kyla. You know it's not like that." I tried to give her a warning look, knowing Kyla would probably end up dismissing it, but I was that desperate to get that thought out of her head.

"But this could be like totally awesome, Ash." I winced again at her high pitched tone. I didn't know what was it that pained me, that she actually thought that, or that I couldn't give her, or myself, what she thought was true.

I shook her head, letting her know I wasn't giving into this. "She was miserable when she found out you left, you know." I looked up, seeing her features had turned serious. "She wouldn't speak to anyone for weeks. And when she did, she was a total bitch." I felt her eyes bore into my skull, taking things in, "intuitioning" me.

I knew Spencer cared about me, that was never the problem. I knew she cared. But the worst part was that I knew I'd never stop. "I take it you did a good job taking care of her." I laid back, sighing as my back melted between the cushions.

"Yeah I did a great job protecting my ass until her bitchiness went away." her eyes sparkled and she gave me a toothy grin.

I chuckled "Fair enough. Also, potty mouth alert" I felt her legs nudge my knee as she stretched them, laying them on my lap. I smiled because it did feel like old times. I wiggled my fingers near her skin, remembering a certain ticklish spot and she quickly swatted at my hand.

"Ashley, you can't really think it's just a coincidence you're here now. Coincidences this big don't happen." I focused my attention on picking away at the little bits of nothing scattered on her sweatpants.

She used her toe to nudge me in the ribs "Ash, you should take advantage of this. Be happy. Make Spencer happy."

I chuckled again, because really, all I've ever wanted was for Spencer to be happy. Even it was at the expense of my own happiness. I never knew that feeling before Spencer. I never thought I'd know it. And I didn't know to frown or smile at that. "Kyla" I said again in a warning tone "You know this isn't like that." I sigh out in desperation, letting myself feel the vulnerability this situation put me in for the first time. "This is all just too much of a mumble jumble. I escaped the mumble jumble only to come rushing through it again"

I felt her shift quickly and her hand connect in a quick slap to my thigh "God, Ashley! Why are you being so difficult? Would you stop and see how perfectly everything is playing out to be." I rubbed the back of my hand again my leg, feeling the sting of the sudden attack. I looked at Kyla, seeing her fuming because I was complaining. I burst out laughing, and she looked at me quizzically "So feisty." She showed a proud toothy grin, accepting my offer of truce for the time being and letting the issue halt.

Maybe I just had a life-knack of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I lay back down comfortably, massaging my temples, closing my eyes and letting out a puff of air. I opened one eye, glancing at Kyla still staring at me "So, kid, who's making you grow up so fast?"

She groaned, burying her face in a pillow. "Jamie" I heard her mumble. "And does this Jamie have a face I can threaten directly, or a number I could prank call in the future?"

I saw her eyes get lost in a daze as she thought about said Jamie. "She's so perfect, Ash."

I sighed, recognizing the glaze in her eye as one I constantly have. She is. She's perfect and I might just die because of it.


	6. Strawberry fields

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline**

**Flashbacks are in _italics._**

I winced, shifting slightly as I tried to ease the bothersome feeling in my arm pulling me out of my slumber. I willed myself to flex my fingers, feeling as the sharp needle-like sensation spread all the way up to my neck. I groaned now fully awake.

I kept my eyes closed, trying to fall back asleep, but something held on tight to my consciousness. I had always been a heavy sleeper growing up. But I've learned to change that living alone. After a few slept-through-the-alarm incidents, I found myself growing quite alarmed in the mornings to the annoying nag of my alarm clock.

I was so worried I'd keep that routine of sleeping in that I wore myself out while trying to stay awake 'til morning'. It was a series of experimental procedures that led to the torturous death of half a dozen alarm clocks per week. But eh, some die so others could live, or something to that effect.

I opened my eyes, trying to figure out the source of my momentary paralysis. I craned my neck, catching a glimpse of dark hair spread across my thighs, and as I breathed in my nostrils were filled with a barely there whiff of peach scented shampoo. I smiled, reaching up to wipe the sleep from my eyes so I can properly enjoy the sight of Kyla asleep on my lap.

"It didn't take her long to fall back into the same old routine." I gasped surprisingly, not able to control the sudden combustion of emotions that exploded through me. I closed my eyes, taking my time, letting the memory of that voice, first thing in the morning take me back through lanes of memories. I didn't care what it would seem like, as I sat there with my eyes closed. It could easily be mistaken as a haze of sleep.

I slowly opened my eyes, not bothering to turn my head as I let my eyes divert to where the voice reverberated from. I found I couldn't see her from my position, and I proceeded to twist my neck but quickly regretted it as said limb decided to protest against the few hours of stiff-sleep I had put it through. I freed my fingers from Kyla's locks, putting them to good use as I massaged my aching neck and quietly grumbled.

I heard soft chuckling echo from my left, where I couldn't see, before Spencer appeared in my line of vision and sat herself right across on the opposite couch. I stopped my murmuring, looking down to check if I'd woken up Kyla. "Don't worry, she still sleeps like a log."

I looked back up at Spencer, watching her watching us, before nodding my head. She looked down, typing away at her cellphone and I allowed myself a longer gaze at her. Her hair was up in a sloppy bun, a few blonde curls hung carelessly around her cheeks. She had pale grey jeans on with little cuts here and there, along with a slightly loose-fitting olive green hoodie. She clearly wasn't dressed to impress, but still managed to put her stamp on me, and I was starting to worry her ink was permanent.

She glanced up, stopping to stare at Kyla's sleeping form, and I felt uneasy, inadequate in this home, with this family that I once thought of as mine. I didn't want to be imposing. "We were catching up last night" I explained, feeling a need to elucidate, as if I had been caught red-handed in an uncompromising position. "We must've dozed off."

I looked at Spencer, with her titled and her expression one of patience. "I missed her too, you know" I felt the need to add that little sentiment. I didn't want to be betraying Kyla's trust after our long talk and re-acquaintance. She smiled softly, leaning against the back of the couch. A far off gaze clouded her face, and I furrowed my brows waiting for her to come to. "I always thought Ky was sort of ours to raise." She lifted one shoulder, craning her neck to rub the side of her ear against her shoulder, a typical nervous Spencer gesture. Her voice was soft, tiny as she went on "She wasn't that much younger, but I loved it when we'd just look out for her together."

I didn't know what to make of her nostalgic tone after last night's brawl, but I couldn't help but soften at the malice-free look she had in her eyes. I looked around the living room trying to catch any hint of how late we've slept. There was no sun shining through the window panel, and I had no idea if this were early morning or late afternoon. I always liked how similar both were. "What time is it?"

I watched as she slipped off her flip flops, lifting both feet to sit indian-style on the couch. I chuckled inwardly, only Spencer would wear flip flops in dead winter. She closed her eminent notebook, directing her attention at a stirring Kyla. "It's around 9:30."

She must've caught the confused look in my eyes because she quickly continued, explaining her early presence at the house "I make it a habit to come home for breakfast as often as I can."

I flexed my numb leg, the tingling sensation was getting worse and the weight of Kyla's head on my thigh weighted down even more as she squirmed rousing to consciousness. I tried to stretch it farther, the tips of my socked toes touching the coffee table before my muscles spasmed and it came down with a thud, the hard collision caused Kyla's head to slip a little down and land on the cushion.

She groaned, stretching her body and almost falling off the small couch. I wrapped my arm around her stomach, pulling her back up. She blinked sleepy eyes, looking at me with a haze "Good morning, sunshine."

I cringed, at my unconscious slip, looking up to catch Spencer's suggestive stare. She looked, unmoved, too unmoved, and I knew she was on the rollercoaster of thoughts I was on. I had made it a habit to call her and only her that.

Kyla groaned again and mumbled what I think was a "whatever" before swatting my arms away and covering her face.I giggled, delighted by the fact she still wasn't that much of a morning person. Kyla rolled on her back, her head coming up again to rest on my thigh. "What time is it?"

"It's way too early for your liking." I had a feeling Spencer was liking the pained groans emitting from Kyla. I had to admit that I was quite amused too. "But seeing as you're awake, you might as well get up." I could hear the laugh threatening to burst in Spencer's voice, and shook my head at the all too familiar scene.

Kyla's groans were turning into growls by then, and I watched her slightly shake due to my silent chuckling. Her hand reached up to slap at me again, but I moved quickly causing her head to fall down on the cushion one more time,

I stood up, feeling the blood rush quickly to my head, and tried to reach for something to steady myself. I felt fingers close around my forearm, and opened my eyes slowly smiling at Kyla for her aid, only to come face to face with Spencer. "Easy, there."

I smiled in silent thank you, balancing myself. She let go of me, before taking my place on the couch next to a half awake Kyla. "I'm going to freshen up, then I'll be right down."

I marched towards the stairs, my hands going up to rub my scalp through my hair. I heard her voice, following me, just as clearly as I felt her eyes doing so. "Let me know if you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen." I nodded, knowing she was able to see, my hand now going to grip the railing.

I heard her voice call out again, halting me again, stopping me, rewinding, as I reached the upstairs. "Still like your coffee undrinkable?" I laughed at that and shouted a yes.

xxxxxx

_I craned my neck up, trying to size up the tall tree. There were trees on both side of the road, and a high stone fence hiding an even more beautiful little wooden shack. In a few hours I'd be turning 18. I took in my beautiful surroundings, wondering why I had refused my parents invitation to spend it with them in Europe. Probably because they were in separate countries._

_"Ash, could you get in the car please." I poked my head through the open window of her car, watching as she fumbled with the radio, switching stations. "Why? It's beautiful out here."_

_She looked up with pleading eyes. "Just come keep me company in here" When I didn't budge, she tilted her head, biting her lip. "Please."_

_I laughed, shaking my head at her. "Or, you could come out and hang out with the rest of us out here." I looked behind, and saw the guys shoving each other and laughing, shaking my head. Boys. "Okay, on second thought, I'll keep you company."_

_She clicked her tongue unlocking the door for me. I never could understand her obsession with keeping the doors locked, even with the windows open "Settling for second best, are we?" I intertwined our fingers, resting our hands on the gear stick. "Always."_

_We sat looking ahead. This was a spot we've discovered way back with a group of friends. We've made it a habit to drive here on most evenings and just talk. The sound of the guys bickering was tuned down by the music blaring softly from the speakers. She kept fiddling with the radio before settling on one song. It was that track by Katy Perry, where she kisses a girl and apparently likes it._

_I could see her fidgeting in her seat before turning her head my way. "Do you think kissing a girl is innocent?" I was used to her random questions by now. She took a liking to asking me strange questions at the strangest times._

_I pondered over my answer, like I always do. Her questions always seemed to hit certain soft spots, and I never knew if the hit was intentional or if my soft spots were just that numerous. "Do you think kissing a guy is innocent?"_

_She titled her head again, biting her lip again. "Well, yes." She smiled clearly catching on to where I was heading. She sighed, letting the silence take over again for a few seconds. "Do you think you'd ever fall in love with a girl, Ash?"_

_I chuckled, at the question, and she laughed along. She probably thought I was laughing at the randomness just like I always do, just like she always thinks I do. I took a deep breath calculating my words. I had no idea what she wanted to accomplish by these questions. But this wasn't foreign land, really. I never understood her reasoning and I taught myself not to read too much into it. "I don't know, Spence. I could fall in love with anyone."_

_"So you could fall in love with a girl someday?" I lifted my hand, scratching my cheek although it didn't itch. I always found the sound of nails upon skin relaxing. "You fall in love with the person, regardless of their gender. I mean, that's what I believe. It's just a big and controversial matter."_

_I really wanted to ask her if she thought she'd ever fall in love with a girl. But I didn't. Just like I never dared to ask her back whatever questions she threw my way. I wasn't ready to know any of it. I'd rather things stayed the way they were._

_Asking is always harder than answering._

_An answer can be camouflaged, misleading or blatantly lied through. But to ask something is to reveal a part of yourself. To ask a question is to answer to an unspoken one._

_We heard two light taps on the roof of the car, before Dawn stuck her head through my window signaling us they were all about to leave. Spencer turned on the ignition putting the car into gear and driving back to her house. We were planned for a quiet night there._

_I stood on the front porch with Dawn, chatting about nothing. I was feeling a little out of my element, but I refused to ponder over it. I didn't care my parents were away. But tonight's my birthday and I couldn't but let it bring me down a little. "Dawny, I think I'm going to head home" I turned to leave but I felt her grip tight on my forearm, not relishing and making me frown when she wouldn't elaborate "Can I help you with anything?" I ask drily.  
_

_"You can't leave, Ash. We need to get inside, like now." She was literally shaking and I would've found it amusing if she wasn't crushing my arm. I frowned trying to free my arm, but her grip never faltered. "Seriously, what is wrong with you?"_

_"Seriously Ash, can't whatever wait a bit?" She was still shaking and this time I actually laughed, patting her arm reassuringly. "I'll be back later, I'm just not feeling the festivities." I just wanted to flee the crowd for a little bit, try to get a hold of my parents. Both, or either, or just the dial tone. "Just be back soon, please" She says in concession.  
_

_xxxxx_

_I reached her front porch, heart heavy after an awkward phone call, noticing how dark the house strangely was. The porch's lights were off, and so were the ones inside. I couldn't hear any voices, and I wondered if everyone had already left in short half hour I was gone._

_I turned the knob carefully, stepping inside. The lights were in fact all out, except for little flickers I could see coming from the living room. I walked in, peeking around the corner to have 6 figures tackle me, screaming. "Surprise!"_

_The sight of them didn't quite surprise me, seeing as we were all together but an hour ago. But what lay on the large table at the far corner did. I could see about 2 dozens of small cupcakes on the table forming a perfect "18". Each of the small treats had candles all over it, making it seem as if that "18" were on fire._

_I stood, smiling, blushing as they sang happy birthday to me, several arms latching unto me, and everyone pulling me into hugs. But the only thing that had my attention was the shy figure standing next to the table. She walked towards me, taking my hand and leading me to the chimney room without a word, before closing the doors._

_She walked to the small bar, pulling out a big box from behind it, and handing it to me "Open it." she says handing it to me as I sat down, putting the box on the couch and untying the ribbon. I laughed at the first thing that greeted me. I grasped the small poster of Belle from Beauty and the Beast, and lifted it up. 'Just because you're 18 doesn't mean you can't enjoy the little things' was neatly scribbled upon it._

_I felt the couch dip and I knew she had sat behind me. I put the poster aside, and took out the set of round candles. "They're scented." I heard her whisper. "I thought perfume was too cliché. So I bought these."_

_I opened one and brought it closer smelling it, feeling myself involuntarily smile as the soft aroma of Vanilla surrounded me. I placed the candles above the poster, and took out the last garment in the box. It was a see-through huge glass ornament. I turned it around to take a better look at the drawing. It was a cloudy sky, with a smiling sun upfront, and right below it was written "You Are My Sunshine."_

_I turned around, facing Spencer. "I thought we had established the sunshine title for you." She smiled sheepishly and took both my hands. "Well yes. But you're also my sunshine. Everything's so bright and clear when you're around." She pulled me into her arms, the embrace warmer than any we've ever shared. "Happy adult-becoming, Ashley"_

_I pulled her close, throwing all caution to air. I've always held back whenever we'd hug. I always feared someday I'd never be able to let go. "Thank you."_

_xxxxxxx  
_

I kicked at the small stone, my hands buried deep inside my front pockets. I eyed up the big estate, wondering, knowing, if it looks, feels, as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. I knew the answer.

I'd been here, standing outside of my home, my parents' place for the last 40 minutes. I knew they weren't inside, they were both currently abroad. But I'd been trying to come up with the will to come visit the place for the few days. And just when I did, I now couldn't come up with one good reason to make me want to go inside.

" _We don't know when our name came into being or how some distant ancestor acquired it. We don't understand our name at all, we don't know its history and yet we bear it with exalted fidelity, we merge with it, we like it, we are ridiculously proud of it as if we had thought it up ourselves in a moment of brilliant inspiration_." I looked back, seeing Spencer leaning against a post, reading out of a book. I craned my neck, absorbing in the words she's just read.

I never really got the whole "in the footsteps" ordeal. It always sounded rather absurd to me that certain expectations would be glued to certain individuals based on who's last name they held. I found it incongruous as I thought about my own relationship with my own parents.

Things were always a combination of foreign unreadable codes of emotions to me. As children we tend to mix things up. Love gets mixed up with a fear of rejection, of disappointment/disappointing. For a child, things are often complicated. And as adult, things tend to get even more so.

I find it amazing how that answer is so omnipotent. How did the meeting go? It's complicated. Did she accept to marry you? It's complicated. Everything is always complicated when it's clear, simple and not what you've been hoping for.

So it's dubbed in the purest forms of simplicity, as complicated.

I suppose I couldn't help it, at one point, I must have turned bitter.

"You took too long, thought I'd take a walk, see what's keeping you." She was looking at me, delicately. Saying nothing, to imply everything. I shook my head, reassuring her. "I'm fine." I smiled, walking towards her. "I guess I was just more homesick than I thought I was."

At one point, I must have turned bitter. Until she came along.


	7. Et pour sa voix lointaine

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything, except the storyline.**

**Flashbacks are in _Italics._**

_I hid the veiled rectangle behind the car, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans. I had been planning this for a week, but all my attempts to assure myself that right now, right at this moment I'd be well composed just vanished._

_I heard light footsteps echoing down stairs in the near vicinity, and let out a fidgety breath before allowing my eyes to meet ways with my ears._

" _I told you I was red" I chuckled, biting the inside of my cheek. "No, you told me you were sun burnt, not roasted."I looked at her reddish skin peaking from her navy tank top and her white shorts._

_She made a face, before submitting into a little giggle. She stopped midway, bouncing on the balls of her feet. I internally laughed at the realization she was as nervous as I was. "How was your vacation?"_

_Meaningless, I thought to myself, just like anywhere without her seems to be."It was fine." I stammered before adding "fun" then rethinking again before adding another "fine"_

_She tilted her head, smiling softly "So, which is it?" I breathed a tiny laugh, stuffing my hands in my pockets. "It was fine. I kept myself amused finishing your surprise."_

" _That I will get to see tonight, hopefully?" I nodded "That you will get to see tonight, yes."_

" _Ashley?" I looked up, as I heard her call my name gently, pleadingly. "Come hug me, please."_

_I swooned, stopping my feet from floating off the ground and flying me to her. I cleared my throat, raising a teasing eyebrow instead. "But you're sun burnt" She rolled her eyes, sighing playfully. "And you're a jerk who's been on vacation for the last month, with the nerve to tease."_

_I stretched, looking down and scratching my neck in the typical knows-when-guilty gesture."We could compromise?" I looked up to find her standing in front of me now, attempting to offer her with a tiny smile, hoping to charm my way out of a berating._

_She was looking at me plainly, and I loved it. Because it was all a game, the game, and the only game we could play. That was our compromise, and the only one we could compromise on._

_She wasn't mad, and I knew that. But she needed to be, so I'd have an excuse to keep making it up to her, to have an excuse to always be this close to her. I took a tiny step closer, closer, almost breathing her in. "Will I hurt you if I hug you?"_

_She grasped my shoulders through my shirt, killing what's left of the distance and molding me to her. I kept my hands in my pockets, not knowing where to place them and if it might burn her, burn me._

_She guided my hands, encircling them around her waist. "This doesn't hurt."_

_I leaned my forehead against her temples, relishing in the sensation that for the first time, I had an actual plausible reason for the fear coursing through me while touching her._

_She drew out of my arms, and took my cell phone out of my back pocket. She pressed a random button and watched the clock flash on the screen. "It's almost time for you to show me what you've been so sneaky about for 2 months."_

_I stared at the clock as it flashed 22:19. "Why almost? I could just show you now"_

_She shook her head, tapping the screen. "You will in three minutes." And just as she said that, the clock turned into 22:20 "Ah, 2 minutes now."_

" _22:22?" I smiled at the cuteness of her, and shook my head._ " _I just wanted to remember the night, and the time, that's all." I breathed in and sighed, taking her in, all of her, all that there was to her. This was hopeless, and I was hopelessly in love._

" _Close your eyes" I said, watching her eyelids softly dip, and her lips draw in an anticipating smile. I walked back a few steps, taking my clandestine object from behind the car. "Still closed?" I asked, not looking at her to make sure._

_"Closed." She replied, her voice breathy and calm. I turned to look at her, standing in the middle of the street, her eyes closed and her demeanor relaxed. I walked back towards her, seeing her body instinctually lean towards my now close one. I stood in front of her, lifting my object to her eye level and took the white cloth covering it off "You can open your eyes now"_

_I saw her blue orbs flicker and open, my feet sinking into the ground as I braced myself. It's a lesson learned and one that I felt I was going to need with Spencer. Some other time, some other place, you're going to wish you savored every touch, every smell, and every facial expression, the good and the bad._

_Her eyes scanned every surface of the painting, and I felt her swallow it in, swallow me in whole and bare. Her fingers flew up gracefully to trace the hard canvas._

_I cleared my throat, not able to take the expressive silence, feeling too exposed. "I promised I'd make that 'happy place' real someday." I smiled at the serene look on her face as she turned to look at me "But you're going to have to settle for a painting for now."_

_I looked at my painting, tracing the slight cracks in the wooden pathway, taking in the colored lights emitting from the little round domes at the edge of the path, and finally the wooden bench shaded by the huge willow tree. The painting had a sinister soothing aura to it. The green appeared domineering due to the trees surrounding the pathway on both sides, and the white full moon had a certain glow to it. I had smeared the white painting by accident which caused the glowing attire, but I wasn't about to reveal that tiny fact._

_It was Spencer's happy place, the one she had told me about on that stormy night, one that didn't exist, but that she often took strolls and walks in whenever her thoughts wandered._

_I sweetly choked on her smell as her arms drew me back into her body. I leveled my body, trying to place the painting down so I could hug her back._

" _Hello to you too" I started to pull away, as Dawn's usual bad timing came to take place, but I felt her arms tighten around me. I held onto her for a few more seconds before I pulled away, missing her warmth, just as I'd missed what words she whispered to me._

 _"Welcome back, loser" I moved to hug Dawn, poking her in the ribs lightly. She knew I'd be here. I had already told her about my little surprise. She had even suggested the guy that helped with the canvas for the painting._ " _Whatever, hater, I know you missed me" I kissed her cheek, ruffling her hair. I loved Dawn, truly and with all my heart. We might send hate texts and death wishes to each other instead of goodnight messages, but it made it all that much special._

_She let go of me dragging us both, Spencer and I around to her car. "Well, come on. The guys are waiting. We're off to Horizon Point."_

_"I'm going to head home for a second guys, I just need a change of comfier clothes" I announced, before hurrying down the few porch stairs and towards my house. "Wait" Dawn called, and I could hear her fast strides getting closer "I'll come along" I waited for her, both of us watching as Spencer joined the others before we got on our way._

_"So" She said in a sing-song voice "Did she like it?" I shrugged, smiling dreamily._

_Dawn bumped our shoulders, hooking her arm through mine. "I mean she was crawling inside of you, that definitely spells out like it to me." I couldn't help the grin that crept its way on my face. "Yeah, that definitely spells it out."_

_I laughed loudly as Dawn recounted the many updates I had missed while away as we made our way back after my changing. We were on our way towards the few cars parked still in front of Spencer's house._

_My smile soon faltered as I caught a glimpse of the two figures sitting in a nearby parked jeep. "Is that Aiden Spencer's talking to in your car?"_

_I turned incredulous, eyes burning through Dawn's face. "You invited Aiden along? What the hell, Dawn?" I didn't know who to vent up my anger on, Dawn for bringing Aiden along, Spencer for talking to him after all he's done, or myself for allowing all this to get to me._

_I swallowed my fury, salvaging what's left of my pride, and decided to internally curse Aiden's parents for ever conceiving him. I shook my head disappointedly, the guy was nothing but trouble. He hurt Spencer over and over again, lied and cheated. I couldn't fathom how it was she forgave him every time. It was the same scenario, they'll break up, go back to being friends, and then get together again._

_I couldn't help the disgust that I knew was showing on my face as I watched her laughing. Just terrific. "I'm sorry, Ashley." Dawn looked at me apologetically, seeming dejected. "What was I supposed to tell him? He's my friend, I can't just…"_

_I nodded, letting Dawn know that I understood and she needn't continue. She nudged my side, leaning closer and kissing my cheek. "Come on"_

_I shook my head, telling Dawn I was going to ride with the other guys, watching her nod and head to her car._

_xxxxxxxx_

_"Why didn't you ride with me and the girls?" I sighed as I saw her head peek through my backseat window._

_"What are you doing here still, Spencer?" I shook my head, knowing I had no right to be this harsh or sound it. She did nothing wrong, and I had absolutely no right to be mad. "Dawn is getting ready to head home, you should go with her"_

_She tilted her head, folding her arms and bringing her chin down to rest on them. "I wanted to spend some time with you." I felt a finger tap the skin of my forearm and couldn't help but flinch. "Especially with you sat here all cute and frowny."_

_"I'm not frowning, Spencer." I looked ahead, well aware that I was staring at the back of the driver's seat. But I was mad, mad with jealousy, but mad nevertheless. "It's two in the morning, I'm tired and jet lagged." I really was tired, just not out of jet-lag._

_I felt her insistent fingers skim the back of my hand, turning it over until she could press our palms together. "Then smile for me, please. It's not much of an effort"_

_I sighed but made no attempt to remove my hand. Because really, I didn't want to. She lifted my palm, placing it on her cheek and leaning into it. "How about if I sing to you."_

_I didn't acknowledge her request with an answer, knowing quite well she was about to sing whether I agreed to it or not. I heard her hum a familiar tune, and turned my head so I could finally look at her._

_I couldn't quite decipher what it_ _was about the blonde beauty standing outside of my window that did this to me. But right this moment I felt, and I knew that I will never escape this labyrinth that is her, that I will never escape her sweet perfume, her blazing ceruleans that light me up and burn me down, and her smile that haunts my nights. And worst of all was, that I did not want to._

_I wanted to get lost in her, drown in her, breathe her in, breathe her in until I figure her out, figure me out, and figure out what it was in her that made me this me without her._

_"I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now..." I instantly recognized the song she was rhythmically whispering in the night. It eventually ended up growing on me the more I heard her play it over and over again._

_"And all the roads we have to walk along are winding." And with every verse, her breath drew nearer to my skin, as she trailed her lips across my palm. "And all the lights that lead us there are blinding." She softly placed her lips against my skin, not bothering to kiss it, instead sing upon it "There are many things that I would like to say to you_ , _but I don't know how.."_

_I felt my cold skin moisturized by the light wetness of her lips as they slightly puckered and marked it. "Because maybe you're gonna be the one who saves me. And after all you're my wonderwall.." I couldn't stop my thumb from running circles on her cheek. Because it's been a while now that she's taken over every organ, every limb, every atom in this body,_

_I felt her lips brush against my palm again, before she laced our fingers together. She snaked her head more through the window, speaking in an even softer voice. "Not trying to make conversation with you, frowny." She smiled playfully "I just wanted to tell you about this girl I know, that I'm quite in love with."_

_I chuckled, raising my eyebrow for her to continue._ " _She's gorgeous, quite wise for a feisty brunette" she stopped for a moment, pretending to think "…a little reckless but with a heart of gold."_

_I sighed, lifting our hands from their arm rest on the window sill, before leaning my forehead against them and closing my eyes. I felt her lean her forehead on the other side, before she continued "She's my soul mate, you know. I'm going to marry her someday."_

_We heard two taps reverberate from the hood of the car and she quickly let go of my hands, slipping her head out through the window._

_"So, what are we chatting about?" Dawn appeared out of nowhere rubbing her palms together._ I groaned at her bad timing again. _I settled back in my seat, looking at a very fidgety Spencer. "I was just trying to get Ashley here to get out of the car."_

_I frowned, watching her nervous stance and her shaky voice. I didn't understand the sudden shift in her mood, nor the fear she's displaying. She shot me an apologetic look. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment seep into me, but returned her look with a soft smile._

_There were a few moments of silence before Dawn clapped her hands together again and shrugged. "Well, we're gonna head back in a few. I'll go help the guys wrap up."_

_I decided not to bring up the little incident that just happened as I opened the door letting a little more air into the car. I knew she wouldn't bring it up either. She never does. She opened my door wider, extending her hand and bowing chivalrously. "Dance with me?"_

_I looked around at the forest-like surrounding, frowning at her questioningly. She ushered me closer and I took her hand allowing her to guide us a few steps back. It was a beautiful night, and apart from the very few stars in the sky, there was no other light to guide anyone through._

_I squinted my eyes trying to make out more than the outline of her face, but I could see nothing but the little sparkle in her sapphires. "We have no music, Spence" I could see the edge of her mouth lift in a gentle smile "I'll make us some again"_

_Before I could protest, she had flung her arms around my neck and started humming another familiar tune. She moved back grabbing my hand and twirling. I flexed my muscles giving her a firm base to support her bend, listening closely to her mumbled words as I recognized this song._

" _I know you're scared that I'll soon be over it, but that's part of it all." I brought her closer, singing myself, burying my face in her hair and breathing in. She smelled of vanilla. I had never dared hold her this close before. I felt her head drop on my shoulder as I swayed is lightly right and then left._

_I stopped my soft mumblings, when I heard her voice pick up where I left off. "Part of the beauty of falling in love with you, is the fear you won't fall." We heard various cars honking, and slowly let go of each other. I saw two silhouettes who I guessed were Dawn and Aiden walking over as I guided us towards them._

_She stopped, pulling me back. "Promise me" She said urgently as she held both my hands in hers and shook them hasitly. "Promise what?" I asked bemused. "Promise me" She stressed again, cutting my question off before it came out. She looked to where we were dancing a few moments ago._

_I nodded. "I promise." I promised. Someday, we'll finish that dance._

_xxxxxxx_

Because it's just like the rain. Most times it's inevitable when you're out in the open. But something just keeps sucking you in.

Perhaps it's the soothing feeling its symphonic landing bestows upon you, or more likely the purity only it can bathe your body in, once it touches your skin.

It's just rain, it drops, it hits, but the feeling that encircles you is so unique that all words would stand lacking. It hits, and you're there, you're flabbergasted at the miraculous clarity that strikes all around.

It's inevitable, but not quite unexpected. You can feel the shiver rounding you as it nears. But most of all, you can smell it in the air. You'll keep inhaling until you realize it's became your scented ambrosia which will replicate itself everywhere and at all times.

Not only has it soaked you clean, everything becomes as clean and clear as your own recognition to the new born intimacy you feel for each and every droplet skimming your body.

Although most times it comes bearing thunder, storms, even total chaos, if you get well acquainted with it, you'll find yourself merely focusing on it, as all else dims in the background. Even the consequences you know are arriving afterwards.

And even though when it's there, and you're there, and it's completely inescapable, it also only comes at will. Because sometimes no matter how good the rain might be for you, no matter how much you want it, the rain will come when the rain's meant to come.

It's been a month since I flew back from Paris, a month since I took one step backwards worth a hundred steps forwards. I felt a droplet of water squeeze its way out of my wet curls, take a courageous leap and land on my foot. I squeezed my hair again, uselessly I knew, since the rain was pouring still, but relished in the sensation of controlling the downfall of any of the drops that hit me.

I flexed my muscles, stretching after having been on the grass for the last couple of hours. It was getting colder, and yet I couldn't get myself to move inside. I caught a flash of blonde hair as I came down from my stretch. "Do you not know it's bad luck seeing your bride the night before the wedding, Spencer?"

She opened the glass doors, stepping outside and crossing her arms over her chest. "You're soaked." She remarked, her features wavering between an amused smile and a shocked one. I shrugged, stuffing my hands in my hoodie. "Well, it's raining."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "And you're out there in purpose of what?" I looked up, catching a few droplets in my eyes and sighing happily. "Proof, I suppose."

She uncrossed her arms, choosing to occupy them elsewhere and balanced herself on the railing. "How about you come in Ashley? I think you can be quite sure now that it's indeed raining." I chuckled, well aware of how insane I looked led on the grass looking utterly too happy for someone caught willingly in a rain storm. "How about you come out here?"

She tilted her head, and I almost let myself smile at how familiar that head tilt seemed. For a second there, she seemed to consider it before shaking her head. "Wouldn't want to get sick on the night of my wedding now, would I?"

I placed my hand on my chest in mock hurt "What am I, the janitor? It is my wedding too afterall"

"Yeah well, you've always proved to be a tough one" I renowned her statement with a tiny barely there bow of my head, before stepping closer to the porch "Worried about tomorrow?" We both laughed at the futility of her question, as if it was asked by an outsider party, both dismissing the search for an answer.

I stared at her, as her hair clouded her face, with her bent down and her cheeks a little red from her laughter "Well that depends, Spencer. Are you gonna be gentle with me?" I ask with the first playful smile sent her way since my coming back.

I saw a twinge of a blush creep up her cheeks, and I knew it was not due to laughing this time. I was tempted to go ahead and tease her more, the rosy cheeks and light banter almost dragging me back to a time where a 16 years old Spencer stood in front of me. She recovered, chuckling and shaking her head, before giving into a yawn, her body, now on its own accord, clambering to stretch her muscles. I watched as her shirt rid up, showing a toned stomach silhouetted by a soft arc. She certainly wasn't just 16 with such a curvaceous body.

She turned to go back inside and sighed, though not knowing if out of remorse or relief as our little nostalgic trip came to its end. I hesitated between enjoying the rain some more or heading back inside myself. I stammered on my way to the stairs as she stopped, her hand pausing on the knob, and her neck alternating between a straight look and a gentle glance my way. I caught a trace of an ambivalent expression before she open the door and went in right after muttering, "Always, Ash."


	8. And promise not to promise anymore

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything, except the storyline.**

**Flashbacks are in** _**italics** _ **.**

_It has often been said that it isn't but a thin line separating love from hate. But really, there isn't but a thin line separating everything from nothing, and everywhere from nowhere._

_It isn't but a thin line, a speck of dust that could turn shiny white into hazy grey. It isn't but a thin line that can sweep you off from thinking that you know, to knowing that you don't know, to knowing that all you know is that you're uncertain, and that this uncertainty is all you have._

_Uncertainty, l'incertitude, i_ _ncertezza... Such a bittersweet word. And as much as I loved bittersweetness, I hated uncertainty._

_Knowing is knowing, not knowing is knowing that you dont know. Whereas being uncertain is wanting desperately to know, thinking you do, thinking you dont. It's being in a constant and perpetual state of pondering._

_It's been 3 months since she's disappeared from my life._

_Opposite to common belief, it is not the_ _significance of someone's presence in your life that depicts their importance, but the effect that transpires out of their absence. It is not the influence their presence stimulates in your being, but rather the inspiration that is there in both absence and presence._

_Inspiration is a rather touchy subject, because it is the only constant. It's constant when not mixed with frustration, or perhaps, desperation. It is the only personal factor, awakening what is in you, clinging to you like a leech, only it doesn't suck the life out of you, it gives you breath and you just exhale it all out in a mist that draws itself beautifully._

_She's put my life on hold, on hiatus, and I can't seem to replay, to know where the pause button was. She has vanished from my life, with no warning, no pre-warning and no apparent damage after the storm._

_There was no storm, no calm before the storm. There was nothing, and now, it is as if there had never been anything at all. I cant quite decipher in which realm I am residing, because in this one it seems as if I never knew her. No, it isn't as she had never existed, but instead I feel like I don't, and in this feeble moment of existence, I have forgotten what it even felt like to exist._

_I cannot muster enough courage to ask her about it, neither can I muster enough courage to ponder truly about it myself. And I am left not asking, but only questioning._

_I press the send button on my cell phone and watch the screen._ _**"What's happening to us?"** _

_She seems happy, but I couldn't leave it at that. Because all I've ever wanted was to make her happy. And it selfishly tears me apart that she is capable of being so without me, when I am but miserable without her._

" _ **I'm sorry, I don't mean to alienate you but I have my reasons, I need to be away for the moment."**_

_I tapped the screen with my index a few times, letting out a breath. I was back to square one, with questions I'd never ask._

She opened the door and a parlor looking entryway greeted us. I gasped as two figures came in view in the said to be empty house, and inwardly chuckled at how edgy I was when I saw it was just a mirror.

I tilted my head as my lone figure, after Spencer slipped inside of the house, now appeared in the glass. I observed my nervous posture, tilting my head to assimilate the dark silhouette. I was always fascinated by the numerous ways hands could be stuffed in pockets and all the different meanings each one conveyed; hand in pocket with thumbs sticking out indicating a playful and flirtatious attitude, hands hanging outside with thumbs pocketed indicating an intimidating guise…

I watched my hands fully stuffed in my pockets and I wondered if I dug them deeper, how much I would be able to conceal.

I felt a hand press on my back and I turned to find Paula with a reassuring smile guiding me in. I took a hesitant step forward and it felt as if the threshold had been not a tiny doorstep but a huge climb. "Glen already dropped your stuff off earlier today" she said as she gently closed the door.

I nodded, standing my ground. She stood there, staring at me, before she ushered me inside, understanding my silent plea to be led in.

We stepped through wooden double doors and into a modern looking space, wide, but quite cozy and tuned down by soft autumn colors

The living room was adorned by a modernized antique coffee table, surrounded by two large wine-red corner couches. It was connected to the dining room area, where a round hardwood table stood in the center with a bar in the far corner. If you breathed in thoroughly, you could smell Spencer in the air, a slightly floral fragrance mixed with a dim light.

And before I could go ahead and check my theory, my ears picked up a noise coming from the balcony doors. I turned to look at the glass doors surrounding the whole area, and swooned when I saw the excited bundle of chocolate brown fur staring at us with impatient eyes and tiny whimpers.

I walked towards him, sliding the glass doors open and almost not wanting to as I gushed at the adorable display of Diego pawing on the glass. As soon as I let him in, the brown lab ran towards Paula jumping on her and getting chided softly in the process. He made a run around the place as dogs often do when they're excited, before he came to a stop at my feet.

He sniffed my shoes, smelling up my jeans before I bent down to pet his head. He softly nibbled on my palm before he showered it with rushed licks and I couldn't help but giggle. "I'm sure he remembers you" I looked up to see Spencer leaning against the door to what I guessed was the kitchen with a fond look on her face.

"I hope he does" I scratched behind the huge dog's ears, kissing his head before thanking him for the little kisses. I stood back up, and Diego ran towards Spencer, jumping up, happy to not be chided this time but held up and hugged. "I was checking the spare bedroom for you." She said as she dodged flying licks before depositing the enormous pet on the floor.

I nodded, smiling my thanks. I felt Paula's hand against my back a second time tonight, and my shoulders almost slumped at the warm contact. I pushed the thought of my parents way back into my head, not wanting to think about their reaction to all this when they came back from whatever vacation they were on.

She slid her arm around my waist, and pulled me in a hug as soon as I turned to face her. "I'd welcome you into the family, but you've always been a part of it." I pulled back, offering her a warm smile. "Well, if Spencer there turns out to be damaged goods, I'm asking for a refund."

I heard a small chuckle come from Spencer's, but avoided looking her way just like I've been doing for the past month, even as she spoke lightly to us. "I'm afraid this is a no refund deal, Davies." She hadn't uttered a word, light or not, since we left the court house, and neither had I coming to think of it.

"I'm going to leave you two to rest, it's been quite an eventful day." I turned back to Paula, watching as she marched towards the door. Spencer was first to walk her out, and I followed suit. We stood, aware of my nervous posture again now that Paula was about to leave. She leaned in, giving each of us a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight girls."

Spencer closed the door, locking it before leaning against it with both hands behind her back sighing. She cleared her throat, and I heard the sound of her gulp. "So, movie?" I shrugged, laughing at the absurd offer before nodding my approval "Actually, I'm kind of hungry. Food first?"

She pushed with her hands, straightening her stance. I was ushered into my new home, as Spencer led me into the living room. We walked towards the TV set, and she opened 3 cabinets filled with DVDs. "You pick a movie while I prepare us something to eat."

I went through the pile, impressed by her choice of movies alternating from A Clockwork Orange to The Lion King. I was surprised to find a few LGBT movies in her collection, but dismissed it to cinematographic curiosity. I quickly picked Madagascar to try and vent the day's frustrations away. I put the movie on the coffee table and sat down on the couch where Diego was napping. I looked around, lost between trying to take in the place, and trying to not let it take me in.

Spencer came back with our sandwiches and two cups of tea, playing the movie and settling down on the couch. I appreciated the warm beverage, taking a small careful sip and surprised she still remembered I didn't like it too sugary, on the contrary of hers which is probably sickeningly sweet.

The movie had been playing for a good hour but I had long since stopped really paying attention as we settled in comfortably. We sat on different ends of the couch, with Spencer covered in a black dotted blanket and me with my sock clad feet on the coffee table. It didn't feel foreign, and the silence was in no way awkward. It just was.

I knew Spencer wasn't paying any attention to it either, the events of the day a bit too much to be vented upon on a movie, but I guessed we hoped, we always do.

I felt the couch dip, and I turned to find Spencer wrapped in her blanket, crossed legs facing me. "Tell me a secret" I laughed as her random question brought back memories of several act of randomness. "For better or worse?" I joked lightly.

She chuckled. "Something like that." I twisted the question in my head, soaking it in my pond on unsaid things. I was afraid of the dark, but that's a secret everyone had. I liked the sound of a new keyboard as you softly pressed the keys, but that was hardly secret material. I could fall asleep to the mere sound of random hushed whispers, but that too was hardly life changing.

"I think I've come to develop a rather stupid defense mechanism where I'm too objective for my own good." I paused, and she rested her head on her closed palm keeping quiet for me to continue. I took a breath, weighting my words." I dig people's way out of the things they put me and themselves through as to not lose them. I'm too afraid of losing the people I love, even if it gets me disappointed over and over again."

"I know I disappointed you." I looked back at her, having shifted my eyes while making my tiny confession. Her head was no longer resting on her hands which I assumed were now resting in her lap under the blanket. "You didn't disappoint me, Spencer." She let out a small disbelieving laugh, and I opened my mouth to argue it. I couldn't and settled on what came first to mind. "I understand."

She laughed good-naturedly now and quickly it clicked in and I laughed along. "And this would be a demonstration of my stupid defense mechanism" I realized I had once against confessed tonight that I loved her, and didn't want to lose her. She was back to tearing me apart in parts, parts of me wished she read between the lines, and others that prayed she didn't.

"I'm afraid of intimacy." She said, after a long pause. "Whenever people get too close, too familiar with me, with my inner thoughts and feelings, I just snap." I could see the blanket shift and I assumed, like I always do, she was fiddling with her fingers. "I did that to you, and losing you didn't stop me from doing it again over the years."

I looked at her as she spoke, not knowing if I was supposed to be happy to finally have some sort of answer of what went wrong along the way. Not knowing if I believed her, or if I wanted to tame my everlasting thoughts with that answer.

Sometimes, there are simple sighing moments in life, when your head is so devoid of thoughts, of any form of reaction that you can't help but simply sigh as your mouth draws in a straight line.

I nodded. I looked at my cell phone, catching the clock as it turned to 03:43. "It's getting late, we should get some rest, it's been a long day."

She made no move to get off the couch, and I could feel her eyes burn the side of my face. I lifted up, stretching as I marched towards the last room to the left, as she's briefed me.

"Goodnight, Ashley." I nodded, because really, that's all I ever manage to do.


	9. No, not of you, of all that's been told

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline.**

**Flashbacks are in** _**italics** _

_"I can't stand her anymore."_

_I twirled my straw, getting little residues of my milkshake around it, before lifting it to my mouth and chewing on it. I watched Kyla's shoulders sag in frustration, and bit on my bottom lip. I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty about what's happening, and I didn't know if I was giving myself too much credit by thinking I had anything to do with this. I watched her, and she knew she had my attention, even if I chose to not comment on the matter._

_I was too tired to comment, truth is. I couldn't even begin to stop my mind from nagging over her absence, and I just couldn't put up with having to listen to others do it. I was fine, it was working just okay and I was compromising her absence, knowing she was happy._

_"Ky, you two are practically sisters." I shrugged, rolling my shoulders, not knowing where I was taking this. "and sisters fight"_

_She scoffed, and I sighed. I reached over tapping my index finger over Kyla's knuckles. She's been coming over every now and then to my house just to hang out and talk. And I didn't mind at all. Kyla was the unconditional, the rational and the irrational. And at 14 of age, she was one of my favourite people._

_She scoffed and got up to stand before the window. I watched her in the glass and I could see a hint of a pout fighting between surfacing and not. "I really cant stand her anymore. She's always mean and angry and complaining, and it's like you can't turn her off"_

_I got up, going over to stand near her, my back to the wall. "And you're complaining about her complaining?" I nudged her shoulder softly, linking our arms "Y'all one unhealthy family." She let out a soft chuckle, but I could see she was still feeling bad and it weighted down heavily. "It's Spencer, Ky, she's never satisfied, it's not new"_

_She turned to me so fast, that my instinct reflex was to push with my hands and get off the wall "You know what is new?" she was close, and with her slightly shorter frame, she craned her neck to look me in the eye."It's you and Spencer being silly and thinking that none of us sees that you two hate each other"_

_I stared at her, because really, I was starting to wonder when one of them was going to crack and ask. I could tell she wasn't done, and that was good because I had no answers to whatever elaborations she was inconspicuously aiming at. "I don't hate Spencer."I shook my head, emphasizing the fact that I didn't to Kyla. I stared at her, frowning. I didn't hate Spencer._

" _Maybe you don't." I swallowed hard at the insinuation of her words, and she could see that I was hurt. I wouldn't want to think she hates me too, although by the pattern of things, I was the plague and she the diseased._

_I was grateful that it was Kyla, that it wasn't someone else, someone who would feel the need to touch me now, to convey sympathy or maybe pity._

" _Ashley, could you just fix what you did, please?" And for what felt like the hundredth time again, I placed my fingers over my eyes, rubbing them closed and then open again. I rubbed my eyes again, and for an instant I felt like reaching under my skin and shaking myself awake and I seemed to be comatose, stuck in locked-in syndrome and wanting to scream my way out. "I don't know what I did Kyla."_

_"Then figure it out, before I murder her in her sleep." She barked and then was gone._

_xxxxxxx_

"So, how's married life?"

I looked up over the frame of my glasses, lowering the newspaper down. I was searching for vacancies, a consultant job, anything to keep myself busy with until I could find myself an office and open a practice. "Sometimes, Dawn, you just crack me up" She laughed and dodged my hand as it flew to smack her upside the head.

"Is it the sex?" I swatted her hand away as she sat annoyingly close and tried to hug me. "There are help courses these days."

I tried pushing her away, breaking into laughter when she refused to back down. I hit her with the newspaper numerous times, and smiled in satisfaction when she moved to the other end of the couch. I chuckled, as she cursed and mumbled how my sexual frustration must be taking its toll on me.

She walked out of the living room, and Kyla walked in. It was Sunday and we had just finished having launch all together. Paula suggested we eat here at Spencer's, get a firm grip on the current situation and allow Arthur to get familiar with it.

"This is so cool." I giggled as Kyla skidded on the parquet floor in her socks before going back to the newspaper. "What, the floor? Yeah, it's neat."She plopped down next to me, her feet directly landing on my lap. "No, silly, I meant you and Spencer living together. This is awesome."

I raised an eyebrow, looking at Kyla sideways. She seemed really happy, and I didn't want to break her bubble. But this was what it was after all and Kyla knew that. "Ky, you know the deal. We had to do this so the firms would be preserved." She shook her head, her smile never faltering, and I took my glasses off, offering her my full attention now.

"Yes, but Spencer could've refused, just like she did with everyone else that was suggested." I sighed, shaking my head as she spoke. "Kyla, sweetie, we've talked about this" She frowned, and I took a deep breath, grasping a sock clad toe. "I've known you guys for years, I guess I'm the safer choice." I looked up at her pleading eyes, and it almost made me want to reassure her, but that I couldn't do that.

She looked away, and I poked her side gently. "But hey, you know, I'm here now and we're going out tomorrow once you're done with homework." She smiled slightly and nodded, but I felt bad seeing the glint in her eyes had almost disappeared. Sometimes it's always best to disappoint the ones you love now, rather than later.

xxxxxxxxxxx

"This was quite delightful." I fell down on the couch, hands padding around searching for a cushion. As soon as I found one, I brought it to my lap hugging it to my chest.

"Is that including my dad's tense behavior?" I looked over at her, and she was slightly smiling, so I let out a small chuckle shaking my head. "I thought you had excluded that one"

I shrugged, chewing on my bottom lip. It was quite the eventful evening, and I wasn't looking forward to it. Arthur came back from a conference in Copenhagen, and although Paula had let him in on what's happening I still felt very unnerved by his return. "It wasn't that bad." I shrugged again, and watched as she sat on the coffee table in front of me, her knee coming to rest between both mine.

"I kept myself busy, checking if Glen stashed any hidden cameras to capture any passionate activity he's been going all about all day" I laughed as I remembered everytime I caught him almost drooling whenever Dawn teased us. It was quite disturbing coming to think of it and very perverted. "It kind of took the edge off your dad's presence."

She reached forward, placing her hand on my knee. I closed my eyes, waiting to see if her hand will loosen in its stiffness, but it didn't. I tried to remember the last time she's touched me without the stiffness, and I couldn't really remember it. "I'm sorry, Ash." She withdrew her hand, and for a second I felt like she was about to withdraw her apology "You're here doing us a huge favor, and he's being an difficult."'

"No, it's okay." I opened my eyes, putting the cushion aside and straightening my posture. I reached forward, taking my glasses, and felt her flinch as my fingers grazed her thigh. I looked up, trying to catch her eyes, but she was looking straight ahead blankly "You don't have to apologize. I mean, your dad made it clear where he stood ever since I came out"

I loved Arthur dearly, he was always loving and tender, although not much around. It did pain me horribly to know he disapproved of me.

I looked up at her, and she was staring blankly, still on the wall. I didn't know why she needed to distance me this much again after we last spoke and cleared things up. She avoided contact, looks and before I knew it I had already blurted out my frustration "I mean, you didn't stick up for me back then, don't start apologizing about it now"

I could hear the whiplash as her neck snapped towards me, and before she could say anything, I got up and headed for my room.

xxxxxx

_"Sup, doc?"_

_"Bugs is way hotter than you, little D." I felt her arms go round my frame, and it felt great to be surrounded by a familiar warmth. "I'll never figure out women, or you for that matter, Ash."_

_"That's because you are as straight as they come" I hooked my chin in the crook of her neck indicating I wanted to be held longer. "You're unusually affectionate today for a raging lesbian." She pulled back giving me a questioning look._

_"I was thinking about maybe rationalizing and realizing your wildest fantasy and discovering I'm in love with you." I snickered when I saw the quasi-disgusted look on her face "but you just blew it."_

_"You fake-hitting on me always means Spencer is giving you trouble." She removed her index from her mouth, and I laughed at the thoughtful look she tried to put. She went to sit on the front porch stairs looking up at me expectantly. "Go out with me?" I tried to keep a straight face, because at this point I was not being rhetoric._

_"Would you stop seducing me and tell me what's going on?" She pulled on my hand, until I was seated on the step below her._

_"Would everyone please stop asking me what's going on." I took my hand back, my arms flailing before falling on my sides. "I don't know what's going on" I felt the recent events weight down on me again, and it only got worse when I felt Dawn reach down to hug me closer to her body. Because really, sometimes affection is not the best approach. "Don't, Dawn. I might do something retarded like cry."_

_"You can, if you feel like it" I could feel the warmth and love in her voice, but it was all too much to take. I didn't want it. I didn't know what I wanted. The one thing I was sure I did want was clearly not mine for the taking. "I don't want to cry." I shook my head, taking in a deep breath before rubbing at my eyes automatically, checking for any unwanted tears. "I want my heart to stop pounding when she's near and my mind to stop wondering when she isn't. I want to go back to when waiting for her wasn't all I did."_

_I could feel the tears form a burning mark on my skin as they slid down. "I didn't ask for any of this." I pushed up from the stairs, circling the vicinity, chuckling hysterically. "Don't I even get to plead for a little peace of mind?" I didn't expect an answer, or any words of compassion at all. I knew she wanted to help, but I also knew she couldn't._

_Sometimes words are scarce, sometimes they are empty, and sometimes they mean to say nothing at all. Sometimes silence is stronger than a herd of words. Sometimes words are lacking, sometimes they just rape a great deal out of reality. So you just search for them elsewhere, in old poems or even in the words of others. Because sometimes, they scream out loud what you've been forever whispering._


	10. She needn't steal your heart

**She needn't steal your heart (if you give it to her)**

I've always loved the early morning winter chills. No matter how cold they might be, how much they might make your skin crawl and your joints quiver... they are almost always followed by goose bumps.

There's this peculiar thing about goose bumps, seeing as you can never know if they're good or bad. It's quite similar to losing a tooth as a kid; there's always the excitement. You know something's coming, a change, a sort of metamorphosis. You're afraid of the pain, but you just can't wait for the tooth fairy to cash it for you.

As children, we're never truly taught to see the beauty behind change, not without the bribe. And even as adults, we never truly do either.

Winter's all about the anticipation, but never about expectations. You can expect a summer day to be hot, or hotter. But really, hotter's hot and whichever kind of hot is hotter than usual. It's as if one was to unveil a truth. How naked is naked?

And when you're outside and in the sun, covered or unveiled, you'll squirm; you'll sweat and eventually burn.

Whereas colder is never the same as cold. The cold is manageable. The heavier the cold, the more managing you need to do, the heavier the cold, the more managing you try to do.

She was my winter, rendered sweet by the intimacy of its touches. It wraps you up, as you wrap yourself up. It always seemed to seep through the long sleeves of your shirt, the ones you so delicately pull at, the tiny crease of your scarf. She was winter, making its way through my never perfect enough barriers (never unconsciously perfected enough barriers) and settling comfortably in my core.

Winter was intimate; and so was she. She was the intimacy I never acquired, always slipping, like winter, always passing.

OOOO

_We were walking. She was walking; I was not so gracefully shuffling my feet as she hoisted me up. I pressed down on her shoulders with my arm draped over them, trying to lift myself up, but it wasn't making me feel like less of a burden._

" _I'm sorry Dawn" I slurred my drunken apology, feeling awful knowing she's been cutting a lot of her nights short to tend to my long ones._

_I pressed down, lifting myself up, only to realize I was only weighting my burdening self more, not quite succeeding in lessening the weight, only emphasizing it more._

" _It's okay, let's just get you home." I stopped, my legs failing me in my shuffling and leaned against the hood of a car, my head reeling back to lessen the wobbly feeling. "You need to stop doing this, Ash."_

" _She shouldn't be holding his hand, not when it's so much bigger than hers, not when she's holding my heart in the other one." I heard her sigh at my words, and I wondered if I'd ever feel light again, if I'll ever let anyone around me relish in that sensation._

" _I just want her out, Dawn." My words sounded hollow to me, unslurred, spoken with adequacy and solidness. The firmness of a liar. "I want her out, I want to sweat her out, breathe her out." I giggled, feeling my shoulders shake with soft laughter. "Maybe if I drink enough, I might be able to pee her out."_

_I felt her comfort seep through my skin, and I looked not seeing proof of her touch and not finding it. I looked up and saw her staring at me with such compassion. It was said that nothing could measure to the pain one felt for another, that the pain brought on by compassion was heavier than any other kind of pain._

" _You'll forget her, Ash" She spoke softly to me, and unlike before, I could now see her comforting touch as her fingers made to rub up and down my arm. "And you'll make new memories, more beautiful ones."_

_I shook my head, not really knowing if it was to refute her statement or to shake away the uneasiness settling in my stomach. "I won't." I looked up, my gaze falling on a happy couple walking hand in hand. "They might, they'll make new memories, more beautiful ones." The said couple was very unnerved by my flailing arms as I pointed at them. "They'll have more beautiful nights, have one more passionate kiss, fall in love with a better person."_

_She smiled, and I shook my head more vehemently. "And so will you, Ashley."_

" _But I won't sneak back home after watching someone else sleep 'til 6 in the morning, I wont smile the way I do when someone else eats chocolate, I wont be as mesmerized by a simple shrug of someone else's shoulders, and when I watch someone else's fingers delicately handling the steering wheel of their car, my heart wont skip a beat at the sensuality of said hands…"_

_I lurched forward, holding on tightly to my stomach as I felt it empty itself of its contents, Dawn's hands instantly going to rub my back. "Let's just get you home Ash."_

OOOO

I padded on the cold parquet floor relishing in the monotonous 'thud thud' I heard and the smooth feel of it under my feet. It's quite amazing how everyone becomes quite the sensationalist in the wee hours of the morning. Everything becomes more meaningful, perhaps because everything is more thought of in a somber silence where sight is unnecessary, and ones ears are but a deaf witness to their own inner monologue.

I walked out of my room quietly, my own quietness merging in perfectly with the peaceful surroundings, and headed for the back porch.

I hadn't been there through my short stay, I hadn't been anywhere during it really, not allowing my senses to prod further than to what they been introduced to. But tonight they needed to reach out for something to feel, and I had a feeling that a back porch would supposedly be very beautiful at Spencer's.

A small fluorescent light was on and I could make out her silhouette on the adjacent wall before I caught sight of her. She sat leaning back, the chair almost swallowing her whole, the tips of her fingers barely visible through her white robe's too-long sleeves as her hands hugged a mug of what I presumed would be hot chocolate.

I walked the short distance to the open glass door, leaning against its hinges. The air carried a light breeze, and I watched as it fondled her unruly hair, her few unkept locks swooning to greet the ivory skin of cheeks before departing again.

The little breeze carried itself to me, hitting me with its bite and hers, as it lugged along her scent. I breathed her in, allowing the air to penetrate my skin intimately and seep her in with it.

"Hi."

Her head swiped around calmly, and I lifted my eyes briskly having been taken by the soft lining of her skin as her muscles tightened and relaxed again.

I sheepishly met her eyes as I realized mine had strayed to the bare V shape ending between her breasts. I met her eyes, entirely forgetting I had already spoken my greeting at the swooning smile she was offering me, saying another hello.

She didn't look surprised to see me, and I couldn't help the confused look that followed my smile. Sometimes you just can't help liking it when someone is not surprised by your sudden appearance, whether it was expected and hopefully wanted, or simply because it's, if you dare believe, heartwarming.

"You're not as stealthy as you think you are, Ash."

I chuckled, choosing to ignore her playful jab and not dignify it with an answer, partly because I knew it was true. "What are you still doing up, Spencer? It's almost six."

She wiggled her cup a little, holding it up and tapping it with her fingernail. "I'm drinking hot chocolate." She drew the cup closer to her lips, but instead of drinking from it, she only took a whiff of it, humming at the smell. "I don't see a cup in your hand, what are you doing up?"

"Well, now that you've mentioned it, I knew something vital was stabbing at my existence." I turned to face her, leaning my back against the door frame, my hands neatly grasped together behind it. "Because I almost always stay up and wait until it's six to drink my hot chocolate."

She poked her tongue out at me, wiggling her eyebrows and hugging her mug closer to her chest protectively, before now taking a long sip.

I inwardly sighed, finding myself unable to retort to her playfulness without vocalizing my fondness of her. And I had long ago stopped doing that. I walked out, choosing to lean against the railing instead. "I just couldn't sleep."

She smiled knowingly and I shook my head. "Well, yes that hasn't changed. I still keep myself up for my own masochistic pleasure."

"Nothing ever really changes, I've heard." She leans back, having said that, crossing her legs and tucking one of her hands between her thighs trying to keep it warm.

"Have you now?" I furrowed my brows, detecting the absence of playfulness from her tone. I was grateful for the partial presence it took earlier, knowing we hadn't retreated to bed on a harmonious note. And I didn't think I wanted to go back to that subject.

She nodded, her eyes closing as the vast expanse of her neck braced itself before my eyes as she leaned her head further back. "Neither do people. We just mold ourselves into whatever we were on our way of growing into."

I looked at the woman in front of me, no longer a girl. I stared at her disheveled look, her messy bun and her relaxed pose and this time it didn't feel like I've missed her transformation.

I looked at her, and it was as if I could savor the seconds in the lost intervals of her shift. And I stop myself from closing the little space between us and grasping her hand, brushing her cheek, from tracing her brow and I realize all that she's made me realize. I realize that time did not exist before I started counting her absences, and distance was not conceived before it meant she was out of reach.

"And what is it that you've grown into?"

"What I've always said I'd grow into" She opened one eye, tilting her head to the left and I looked away, knowing the endearing image in front of me was not and never would it be for my eyes to feast upon. "I told you I'd marry you one day, didn't I?"

I laughed, not voluntarily; there was nothing particularly funny about that statement. And I laughed because there was nothing particularly funny about it, because it weighted down as she's weighted down and as her words have always, and I'd always breathe them out in laughter rather than anything else. "Besides, I have to admit it's quite fulfilling to know I'm taming you."

"I've been tame for a while now." I winced inwardly, not wanting this to sound as an excuse, more to myself than to her.

Because I shouldn't be making any, neither should I be feeling the need to. Because the betrayal I've always felt shouldn't have been there. Because she has never asked for my faithfulness. And most of all, because she'd never had a reason to ask for it.

"Haven't been spreading your charm all over your new territory?" She clicked her tongue and shook her head in mock disappointment, before her features reverted back to normal.

"Really Spencer, you couldn't care less when I was spreading whatever I was spreading here"

She shook her head again, letting out a sigh, and I recognized it as a tired one as I saw the heaviness settling on her features. "Why can't we have one discussion without going back to this?"

"We're not going back to anything, there's nothing to go back to."

And she hardened at my words, and I wanted to tell her I didn't mean them, not like that, that I was afraid, that I've always been afraid, that I blamed her for running whereas I did nothing but.

"Ashley, I supported you wholeheartedly when you decided to come out, that was never the problem to anyone, not to me and not to dad."

"What does that have to do with anything, Spencer?" I exhaled, my hands coming up to my collar, feeling cold air lose its intimacy, or maybe gain another ton of it as I tried to block it out.

"You were on a fucking whirlwind, not even caring who saw it." She was on her feet now, her cup forgotten by the foot of her recliner. "You were a part of this family, and if that had been me, I would probably still be on house arrest."

She was staring at me blankly, anger seeping out of her pores. I looked away, and I could see her shake her head in my peripheral vision, before she stormed back inside. I looked at the cup forgotten still on the floor, before I slumped down on the previously occupied sofa.

OOOO

_The heater was making the windows quite fogged, but I could catch glimpses of the rain. I tensed as I felt something wet tickle its way up my neck, usually quiet the sensitive spot. I_

_t was surely failing its purpose by making me more tense and less turned on. I instinctively trail my left hand up the creased shirt, trying to forcefully feel something, anything, my companion adding fervor to his kisses clearly misreading my conflicted and desperate actions for being passionate._

_And just as I've done before I try to clear my senses and hear the vehemence of lips locking and unlocking, liberating a cry, a symphony of joined breathes, of grunts and whimpers as two bodies, one body and another, separate as they are, distant as they might be, try to merge in a flare of emotions._

_I open my eyes, no longer able to force them shut, as I once again give up. I did not know where to find an escape from her anymore, be it in beautiful strangers or even more beautiful loved ones._

_I did not know where to find solace from her comfort anymore, where to shelter myself from her warmth._

_I pull back, my hands giving a gentle shove to his shoulders, then another slightly determined one gaining his attention. He pulls back, retreating to his seat, and I don't dare sneak a look his way as I silently reach for the dashboard taking out the pack of cigarettes. I offer him one, and he takes it, never breaking the silence._

_I feel my phone vibrate before I hear the message tone, and reach into my pocket for it._

" _I need to go." I say with a hoarse voice, the silence having dried out my throat. I clear it, speaking again with the same gruff sound, and I know that it wasn't the silence this time, but my disappointment now that I was meeting a dead end, now this, my last solution will pay off with more loss. "It's the girls."_

_His head whips around, an expression of disbelief framing his usually loving features. "I just drove all the way here, to see you, and you're..." He cuts himself off, shaking his head before looking straight ahead and my heart broke. I loved Ian, he was an amazing friend, one who's feelings I could not reciprocate, no matter how hard I've been trying._

_I laughed inwardly, bitterly, not believing I could've done this to him… put him in my own shoes._

" _I'm sorry, it's just you know how it is." I shrug my shoulders, my words failing to convince me, and I failing to believe I was speaking with such casualness._

_I felt the car rattle and shake as he spun around to face me. "No, I really don't Ashley." I felt his fingers land less than than gently on my chin turning my face towards him. "It's always one excuse or the other, it's always an I can't see you tonight, and when you do…" He closed his eyes, halting his words. "You told me to wait for you, and I did, no questions asked, not even knowing what I was waiting for and why you needed me to wait, and here we are."_

_I sighed, looking down. "I'm sorry Ian."_

_He let go of my face, and again I found myself not daring to look at him. I heard the car start "Where to?"_

" _To Spencer's._

_OOOO_

_It doesn't take much to lie, we're often told, and every person, and the other seem to do it._

_A slight nuance it is, a fabrication of one's mind, often fears and anxieties, are all it takes to alter the truth._

_Because we are afraid, no, not of the truth, but of finally setting it free. We are afraid of losing the exhilarating delight that comes with being afraid, with being the owner of an unsaid truth, not a secret… Because truth is never secret, it never belongs to anyone for it to be kept._

_I stared at her, as she sat to my left, my left that was angled as if on automatic towards her, as if expecting her to topple in sweet laughter any second now, and grasp it in support. And when she does, and no matter how prepared I was, be it for the sound of her laughter or the weight of her light touch, she topples me over._

_Because when she touches my forearm briefly, every other organ in my body whines in protest, and I am jealous of my own arm._

_And as I stare at her, I don't know if I am keeping a truth from her (lest not to say I am lying), or if she is said truth. "Who is she?" she whispers, failing at her attempt to be inconspicuous, and I laugh at her slightly drunk demeanor._

" _Who is who, Spence?" I chuckle, my head only slightly turned towards her, but my vision fully engrossed in the sight of her. I know who it was she was asking about, having only just admitted to being attracted to girls in a drinking game, sulkily remarking I had been the only present girl to admit to that, and slowly pushing it to the back of my mind, not having allowed my hopes escalade in the first place._

_She grimaces, the alcohol making her more irritable than usual as she nudges my arm softly. "Whatever girl you just admitted to liking."_

_It's a slight nuance, one that only one's conscious is capable of recognizing, as mine searched for numerous ways to not divulge of its slight search for a tinge._

_And I stare at her, and I realize for the past few weeks whenever I've been doing so, I've been drinking her in. Ever since she walked back into my life, I did not know if I was to rejoice or to keep my guard on. I did not think it wise to be neither. I did not think it wise to be here also, but my organs seem to believe differently as they exult in the tingles erupted by the mere sensation of her fingers wrapped around skin so futile as my forearm. I did not dare think about my reluctance to question why she was back, when the change had occurred, and mostly how I did not dare break the spell by questioning the reasons for her departure or now return. And I certainly did not think it wise to allow myself to be sitting here as I pallor my answers to match my hidden fears._

_Because there are shades of lies, we are told, those in black, those in white, and those in the most fascinating shade of grey. The thing we are never told, and that no one ever says, in that lies differ in the simple intentions behind them. And the reason that remains to be unsaid is the inaccuracy of such statements_

" _You don't know her." I shrug my shoulder, quick to continue before she intercepts my attempt at a fluid getaway "You still wouldn't, even if I give you her name."_

_And I find myself staring at her cerulean pools hazy with intoxication, not to let my eyes wander to her lips as they curve into a smile. "Does my Ashley not kiss and tell?"_

_I feel my shoulders shake with soft laughter, and even more with relief at watching her stray from her insistence."I suppose she doesn't." And I didn't, because a kiss was not something to ponder upon, not a matter as crucial as to be shared. Because it was a patch of skin as ordinary as any other and inclined to carry about filling ones senses and appease a craving, whether it be kissing a photograph, a shirt, a cheek, or connecting with another set of lips._

_And as her fingers continue to grip my arm, now for no apparent reason, I know that a kiss, any kiss is not something to mention._

_OOOO_

_I tighten my hold on her waist, trying to hoist her up as I try to help her climb the stairs. My own alcohol filled system was rendering the task quite hard, and I wondered for the tenth time why I had insisted on doing it myself._

_It was often quite enthralling how the mind could stroll around one question, previously knowing the answer and at present dutifully resolved to come up with another one, particularly as a specific arm was thrown around my shoulders and I caught numerous whiffs of a certain smell._

_And in my intoxicated state, I could feel lightning bolts go through me, as the weight of her against me did nothing but lighten my existence._

_I lead her to the mattress, sitting her down before kneeling to remove her shoes. "My lips are all numb and tingly, Ash." I look up, her lips at eye level in my kneeling position. Her eyes were closed, my hand cupping her neck the only thing stopping her head from falling backward._

_I halted, waiting for her eyes to open and when they didn't, I couldn't stop mine from straying downwards to her plum heart-shaped lips. I trailed the contours with my eyes, my head moving with the slight dip, my whole being, similar to my eyes, transfixed in the leisurely walk around the edge of her lips. I cleared my throat, hastily sneaking my gaze back up to find her eyes still closed. "That's just because of the alcohol, Spence." I was surprised by the breathy tone that suddenly took place in my voice, and I swallowed, shaking my head as I tried to stand up._

_I found it incredibly hard to stand back up, my vision spiraling and my muscles demanding rest. I help her lean back, searching around for a blanket to cover her with. I throw the blanket over her, lifting it up to her tuck it just above her shoulders. "But they feel so heavy." I watch her struggle to open her eyes, her left cracking open to look at me with eyes clouded with sleep and speaking with a slight slur "Do my lips seem bigger to you, Ashley?"_

_I saw her fingers approach me, trying to will myself to get out of reach but they were clasping my hand long before I utter enough willingness to escape her touch (not that I thought any amount of time would've been enough for me to do that.)_

_She was still looking at me expectantly, and I sighed, kneeling down beside her bed. Her eyes lost their expectancy in a few seconds, and I felt her lulled into sleep. I tucked her hair behind her ear, daring to allow my fingers to stray down, my sight entirely non-existent outside the perimeter of her lips._

_I stare, and I know, that it would be so easy, entirely effortless, to lean the short distance forward and feel the texture of her lips. And it overwhelms me for a second, as my finger trembles at the corner of her mouth, knowing that I daren't touch, that if I did, if I knew, if I'd taste, that if I'd dare give birth to this memory, I would be erasing each and every other I've had and resigning to living in, breathing and craving the only remaining one forever. And I was tempted, for a second to let her consume the rest of me._

_And I lean the short distance forward, feeling her alcohol marked breath skirmish with mine, as I instinctively steer my lips to meet her forehead instead. I was struck with a sense of familiarity as I kissed her forehead, as I kissed each and every one of her foreheads in my memories again._

_I couldn't let this happen again, I shouldn't let her happen again. But I wanted to, god did I want to. "Goodnight Spencer."_

 


	11. Intro

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything, except the storyline.**

**Flashbacks are in** _**Italics** _

_You don't remember when you had deemed it quite habitual to be sitting on this sidewalk with a couple of silverware left from the dozen you had brought along, or when precisely it had become so gleeful to smash them against the adjacent wall._

_And as the next flew out of your grasp and convulsed, you became quite aware of all the laughing surrounding you. You wince rather comically, as you notice that you had barely missed the hood of your neighbor's car and in your intoxicated state find it even more amusing to share out loud your disappointment that you had. No one seems to mind, and you know you have proudly acquired tonight's entertainment spot. You also realize that you probably won't remember any of this tomorrow, or so you quite hope. But in that moment of faux-nihilism alcohol dubs upon people, you realize that no one would let you forget any of it._

_You stumble down the ledge you had been sitting on and as you lose your footing and fall on your back, you decide this is where you are staying for the remainder of the time._

_You had a dog once, a long time ago, not quite that long, you must have been about twelve and you remember your father named him Igor. It sounded so ruthless, too ruthless. You believe he must have been aiming at precisely that. But really, you knew he was just a fluffy ball of huge, which led to him sending the useless guard away. It broke your heart._

_You guide your eyes down, noting it was possibly, doubtfully, the worst idea that you've had all night as your world took an enthusiastic spin, and decide to avert your eyes back to the sky and the world greets you as starry eyed as your suppose you currently are. And as the world spins again, you feel as if you are being transfixed in one of those cosmic vortex and you want to let yourself be transported away._

_Sometimes, all the time, Igor would strut towards your mother, depositing a furry head on her lap, a giant paw at her feet. And it anguished you how unresponsive she was. you remember screaming at her, telling her, begging her to pet him, to just look at him, but she would only pat his head and nod him off. These tantrums became quite habitual, and you'd even provoke them every time you would send him to her and witness the same scene._

_It baffled her each time, seeing as you would rarely ever react to anything in such a manner, it even appalled you. You never quite understood why it irked you so much, frustrated you and even combusted you in ways that has never happened before. You thought it was because you loved Igor, maybe even felt sorry for him. Until you realized that you wanted her to see him, because maybe then she might also see you, wanted her to pet him, to hug you, to show him love, and show you love. You only wanted to see her seeing, feeling, even only reacting to something._

_You shake your head, in hopes of shaking off your well scattered thoughts, and as you feel your ideas physically assaulting the walls of your mind, you feel fragmented, your existence feeble and you find it undeniably difficult to situate yourself in a specific time._

_Your fingers grasp at the concert floor as you try to bring yourself back in this moment, needing it to anchor you into the present, as the hands on a watch would, as you try and as you try and shove away the assaulting others, but it is feeble, and it is tiny but it manages to make you everything that you are today, and all that you take pride in. And that fills you with a sense of dread, and another of despair._

_And you take a tiny moment of your present time, to contemplate that word; despair. And you decide that you find it esthetically beautiful._

_And it makes you wonder why it is so, what makes it beautiful and if under different circumstances you would still consider it to be so. Because what if beauty is nothing but a figment of our recollection, a scheme of our emotions leading us to dub things with more meaning than they would have._

_And somehow you are cursing at fate, out loud you realize, because amused laughter is joining your own. And you are calling him promiscuous, unsated and unsatisfied. And you realize that you feel as prostituted as fate is. You realize that the days you've written, the moments you've painted are just as in vain as every quest of glory done in his name._

_And you laugh, because the image it bestows upon you is that of a woman in a skimpy dress and a fake afro standing under a bridge, because she has lost value of her body, her soul and her significance that she now needs to put a price upon them, to feel them, to feel the right of ownership that comes with selling._

_You open your eyes and the first thing that greets you is an extended hand hanging from a patient form. And you hate yourself for eagerly responding to its calling as your hand reaches up to grasp hers._

_Your stomach sinks as her touch offers you the first taste of feeling, because you realize that your body has long ceased to be yours and your senses are hers wholefully, that even what you are feeling is not yours, but hers._

_And just as fast your eagerness turns to unrestrained helplessness, to rage and you miss the moment where you stand on your feet but you are aware of the iron hold you have on her wrists. You faintly hear her whimpers above your rapid heartbeats that are echoing in your ears, but your quite aware of a voice urging you to loosen your hold, yet you tighten it, because you need t feel her, bruise her, if only to confirm that she is tangible, to know that she exists outside of your very being._

_And for a shimmering moment, you do feel her, and you hold her there, try to exorcise her out. And you're asking her why, but she doesn't answer because she never answers, and you know it's time for you to go._

_xxxxxxxx_

_You're a coward. You know you are. But then again, the whole notion of cowardice is mundane. Last night, you left bruises on her arm, and you've decided she's left the last bruise on your heart. You're a coward, but you want to be brave. But then again, you're just a coward whose whole world has been spiraled out of its axis and there is nothing left to do besides the right thing, which has taken so many right turns and then left ones, and then right again that it doesn't recognize which way it is heading anymore._

" _I don't think we should be friends anymore." Your hands tremble and your whole being seems to glitch, as if you're an outdated system, because this sentence is so outdated, and the weight of the world seems to be held upon your digit as you press the send button on your cellphone and for a moment you think about this button and all the buttons that have changed history. Except this button you've just pressed and the weight of the world you've just held is no way to be held in comparison to the button of the pilot of the plane that dropped the nuclear bomb upon Hiroshima. And you wonder, what he must have felt like, changing history the horrific way he did, and if he knew what he was about to do, and if he did, was his cowardice so big that he couldn't ignore his oath to never ask and never tell._

_He, might have not been a coward, but you are._

" _Ashley, what are you talking about?"_

_What are you talking about, Ashley? I mean really, what is it you're talking about and why are you still talking about it, and for the love of every deity, can't you just let it go already?_

_No._

_You crack your knuckles, before stopping, because you are about to confess your love to her, and she doesn't like it when you crack your knuckles. You at least owe her that._

" _I just don't think it's fair that I have to swoon, every time you look at me, melt, every time you touch me. I just don't think it's not fair anymore that my whole world has to revolve around the dream of you ever holding my hand without me having to give it up moments later so someone else can claim it and call you theirs. I'm sorry, it's not your fault, but I have all these feelings for you, and I just can't be around you anymore Spencer."_

_And when she never answered that night, you remembered why it was it that you were such a coward._

_xxxxxxxx_

" _So, a text message?"_

_You feel your shoulders tense at her voice, gripping the railings of the porch tight in your hands. You weren't expecting to see her here, she wasn't really much for house parties, and seeing as you've been out here all night, maybe you weren't either._

" _One that you failed to answer to, yes." You turn around leaning your back against the metal, hearing her closing the glass doors behind her as she steps out unto the porch. You're aware that you're staring at her shoes, her very purple converse, very out of character colourful shoes._

" _I didn't know what to say." You can see her silhouette on the floor, and by it, guess that she's leaning back against the glass frame._

_The silence is heavy, but for once, you're not about to break it. You might be a coward, but you think you've said enough already, and owe it to yourself to refrain. "It's not fair, you know. You shouldn't have said all those things to me."_

" _Why isn't it fair?" You tilt your head, because you're sure her silhouette is growing bigger, and the little bit of basic science you know is alarming you that she is coming close. But before you can take any scientific action against it, your body is trapped against the railing as her hands slip through the loops in yours to grip the metal, trapping your body against hers. And the only scientific questioning left in you is how her eyes could've ever grown to be the beautiful shade they are._

" _Because how will anyone ever top that off. How is any boy ever going to ever make me feel like he truly loves me when I've got your confession to compare his to?" She's scowling at me, and for a second I wanted to apologize. But it was too late for apologies now._

_I chuckle lightly, leaning further back against the railing, relaxing my stance. "Is this your subtle way of stressing how straight you are to me?"_

_She laughs gently, losing her balance for a second as her hands leave the railing and grasp unto my hips to hold herself upright, and I could smell the alcohol on her breath as she did. "Maybe. But that was my way of telling you how beautiful what you said to me was, Ashley."_

" _You've been drinking, I see." She nods, leaning in and bringing her face closer to mine before whispering her words against my lips. "And you haven't."_

_I shake my head, my hands instinctively reaching for her forearms before they flutter their way up to her shoulders. "What are you doing, Spencer?"_

_She pulls back the tiniest bit, her eyes boring into mine "I'm checking if your pupils are dilated." She tilts her head, her thumbs digging firmly into my waist. "They're supposed to be dilated if you're attracted to me."_

_I could feel my head nod, swallowing heavily as I hadn't realized my mouth had gotten so heavy. And I stare at her lips, all trace of a smile gone as they draw themselves in a thin line, their bow shape almost no more recognizable "Are they? I ask her, and I'm surprised at how breathy my voice had gotten._

_I heard the glass doors slide open as fast as I felt her body lurch away from mine as two figure, a guy and a girl walked out unto the porch with us. I turned around to look at her, but she was facing the outside, her stance similar to mine before she had come. And without saying a word, I walked back in._

_xxxxxxxxx_

I always thought that how comfy a room is, wasn't to be measured by how easily and cozily you can fall asleep in it. But it's actually measured by how lovely waking up in it is.

It's those three fuzzy seconds that follow your wake-up-yawn that tell you how promising the room might be.

You pull your hair to the side, only to find a small patch where the wetness had seeped through. You twist it in a tight knot, watching with a relaxed smile as the water halts its descent, as if joining hands before the droplets cascade down and land on the rug.

You pad barefoot to the living room, halting your march as your breathing joins arms before you take her in. Your lips involuntarily twist upwards at her shirt clad form, your eyes begrudgingly betraying your manners as they trail the length of her legs, toying willfully with the hem of her shirt as it frills the tops of her thighs. You wonder for a hasty moment if she'll offer to dry your hair, like she always used to and how you know you will accept.

You've never liked drying your hair; it has always felt like a violation of time. Time in itself, frail, a moment always passing, constantly put to end to accommodate another, morphing, ending, changing. Change always strikes.

The only thing differentiating a moment from another is that slight nuance of a feeling one bestows upon it. It is slight, and feeble, the only thing separating the beginning, the moment where you are stripped bare, cleansed, a moment of pure intimacy with your body and being as all your senses are tuned, where water kneads you, scents engulf you and your eyes are free to roam, from the end where you are pulled right back to everything that was before.

It has always been about beginnings with you, and the constant fight to capture time in them. But she would ask, and you would accept, because she can silent your being in a rigid time, one in which you don't need beginnings, and aren't afraid of endings.

I don't quite believe in the notion of masochism. Not the common casual everyday-life masochism.

I think casual masochism translates into hope. We hold on to the things that hurt us, not because we love the pain or cherish the humiliation, not because we love to have our hearts pulled out and stomped on, our heads twirled around and messed with or for our lives to become specters or blur; we simply do so out of wishful thinking.

We hold on to the things that hurt us the most, because they mean the most to us and we just cannot seem to give up on them.

Because we are hopeful creatures. Even pessimism, which we use as a defense mechanism, fearing that if we ever get our hopes up, they'll end up in ruins. We hope for the worst, in hope for less disappointment.

I felt the heavy air float between us due to last night's conversation, but I didn't want to wait for the tension to drop, because I break silences, that's what I do by betraying my first instinct to comment upon her legs, "So you, wear glasses now."

She took her glasses off, hiding them in the small space between her knee and the cushion. "And you're short."

I laughed at her immediate defensive stance. "Whoa, there! There was no insult in there or anything... four eyes."

She stuck her tongue out at me, pouting slightly. I leaned over, retrieving her glasses and putting them on before faking dizziness, earning me a swipe of her hand. "Have you eaten yet?"

She shook her head, still trying to get her glasses back with me swatting her hands away. I stood up, offering my hand. "Well, allow me then."

She took the offered hand, standing up. "You cook now?"

I lead us into the kitchen, and saw her to her stool to ensure my little chivalrous act. "Well, I experiment. But a little faith, please."

"Always, Ash." I looked up, checking if that was a double-entendre to my double question and upon finding a soft smile on her face I knew it was.

I turned around, walking over to the fridge to look inside deciding on what to make. I grabbed a few eggs, some cheese, tomatoes, cucumber and what bread was left in there.

Spencer stood up, fetching the frying pan for me and placing two plates on the counter. "My mom called today."

I waited a few seconds for her to tell me what Paula had said, and when she didn't continue, I looked back to see her pondering over something. She stood up, getting two glasses from the dish rack and walked over to get juice from the fridge. "Orange or apple juice?" she asked holding up both cartons.

I nodded my head towards the one with apple juice in it, before adding cheese into the frying pan and mixing it with the eggs.

"She said your parents were back in town."

With everything that was going on this past month, it actually slipped my mind that I hadn't heard from my parents through all of it. I had been back home for a month, and hadn't told neither of them. I cleared my throat, rummaging through the cupboards for some spices to add to my mix. "I should probably go over there today or maybe tomorrow."

"Well, I might have called them and invited them over to dinner tonight."

I could feel, maybe even predict her feet moving so fast that she was across the other side of the counter as soon as she finished her sentence. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

"I know that, Ash. It's the smoke from the eggs I'm trying to avoid." She was being playful, and I didn't like it. I was mad, I really was. It might be a little hard to demonstrate how mad I was when she looked like she was about to play tag with me, and when the potential idea of her doing so meant her shirt might be having a frolicking encounter with the tops of her thighs while she was at it.

I walked back towards the stove, turning it off before covering the eggs so they keep warm. I cut the vegetables, all the while staying silent, as Spencer sat back on her stool.

I hadn't really spoken to my parents since I've last been in France except for the occasional and exceptional holiday call. It was all mumbled-jumbled enough for me to figure out what to say to them about all this even if I had a plan of action. And she just went ahead and pressed my supposed-to-be-spontaneous-and-brilliant button.

I placed the vegetables in the middle of the stool, fetching the frying pan and filling our plates. We ate in silence for a little while, with only the sound of our chewing and occasional swallowing.

"I wanted us to have them over as soon as possible." She said, reaching over and holding my hand before speaking again. "I wanted for you to talk to them before they had the chance to hear about all this from someone else." She rubbed her thumb back and forth on the back of my hand. I looked up, and she looked both apologetic and firm.

I sighed, and she reached over swatting my arm. "Would rather they hear about it from Glen?"

I nodded showing my agreement. She patted my hand twice, before leaning back, her elbows both on the table. "So, what are you going to tell them?"

I sighed, my hands coming up to support my head. "Well, the truth. You got me pregnant, and now I have to endure this for the sake of our unborn child."

She chuckled, picking up the last cucumber, eating half of it and offering me the rest. "With you carrying triplets, at least your parents will know how much of a stud I am."

I laughed, the sound getting drowned by my hands covering my face "I'm sorry, Ashley. I had no right to say all those things last night."

"No, please don't apologize." I cut her off before she could say more. She didn't want to hurt my feelings. But she wasn't sorry, that I knew.

It's weird how whenever someone owns up to their mistakes, people start apologizing for trying to set him straight whether they're really sorry or not . "I deserved it. I know I did some bad shit back then, but that was then. I mean, we were what? 18? We're supposed to mess up."

I didn't want to revert back to the same labyrinth we seem to be getting ourselves stuck in over and over again. I wasn't above holding grudges, but I just didn't want to hold any. I didn't want to wait for my questions to be answered, and neither did I want to go looking for said answers. I didn't want to be condemned for messing up at 18. And I'm guessing she didn't want that for herself either.

I felt her hands as they cupped my face, smooth upon my skin. She rubbed both her thumbs over my cheekbones, before sliding her hands down to squeeze my shoulders. "I'm really trying here, Ashley. I want us to be okay." She spoke in a whisper, and the fact we were alone here, in the kitchen, in this house made her murmuring voice sound that much softer and intimate to me.

I nodded my head, my hand coming up to wrap around a loose curl and smoothing it. Her eyes held that same spark that used to tie my tongue in knots and make my organs feel as if they weren't mine anymore. Whenever she'd talk about something she was excited about, passionate about, or maybe secretive about, you could always spot a certain twinkle in her cerulean orbs. "What am I going to tell my parents? You do realize they're going to disown me and my unborn triplets, don't you?"

"We'll work it out. We just need to, you know..." She made virtual waves with her hands, looking quite hesitant and not entirely sure what it is that she was suggesting. I chuckled as she continued to make wave motions, looking more and more doubtful.

I patted my belly, reassuring my imaginary babies. "Don't worry sweethearts, mommy's just gonna..." I made a wave motion with my hands, imitating the one Spencer was still doing. "…wave through our execution."

I turned around, pulling her towards the living room with me. "You could've just invited them over. Now we need to worry about food too."

"You can always feed them your experimental eggs. I think that last one had a pulse"

xxxxxxxxx

I walked briskly down the cream colored corridor. I didn't get a chance to tour the place yet, but I knew where everything supposedly was. I gave the door two small taps, and entered upon hearing her reply.

I was faced with a four poster bed, with silk navy sheets hanging off of it. The room was dimly lit, with books and papers scattered on the far off desk, the small corner couch and the bedside table.

A familiar painting hung above the bed, and I couldn't help but smile upon seeing it. I knew she'd have kept it, but I honestly didn't think I'd see it here.

I didn't see Spencer anywhere, and I figured she was inside her closet getting dressed.

"Did you get eaten by rogue papers?"

"Did they teach humor in France, or have you naturally evolved?" I laughed at the snide and immediate response. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was expecting my comment.

I heard the soft clicks of her heels on the parquet floor which made me turn around. She stood there sheepishly in a white floral dress. I gave her a lingering look, not caring to hide that I was in fact looking. She wore black stilettos which laced around her ankles. Her dress flowed freely down reaching mid-thigh. Her skin was a slight shade of bronze, obviously tanned, her legs seeming quite toned and smooth against the soft white of her dress.

She wore her hair in a bun, a few curls framing her face. She looked gorgeous with just a little touch of eyeliner and lip gloss.

I cleared my throat, diverting my eyes up, pleading with them not stray down her body again. " "You look beautiful, Spencer."

Her cheeks reddened and she looked down before glancing back up and catching my eyes. "So do you, Ashley."

I looked down at my black halter top and casual dark jeans, feeling quite underdressed at the sight before me. The doorbell echoed, and I closed my eyes and inhaled, and just stopped at that.

"Exhale." She softly requested, stroking the inside of my wrist. I looked up, wondering when she had crossed the room, and how I didn't hear her do so. "We'll get through this"

xxxxxxxx

"The food is delicious, girls."

I smiled at my mom's several attempts to lighten the mood. Although we both knew that it wasn't Spencer nor I who prepared it.

My dad had opted to stay silent for the most of this dinner and it was getting more and more unnerving. He just sat there, looking around and occasionally taking little bites of his food. I tried to ignore Spencer's less than subtle encouraging glances.

"Don't you like the food, dad?"

He cleared his throat, before taking a sip a sip of his water. "The food's fine"

I nodded, wiping my mouth with my napkin. "Would you like some wine, perhaps?"

"How long have you been back, Ashley?"

Like father, like daughter. You just needed to poke and probe at him a little bit until he snaps.

"For a while, now, maybe a month"

He looked stern, his expression unreadable. And I wanted to yell at him, to tell him that they didn't bother calling me too. But that wouldn't win me points. I was about to tell my parents that I got married, to my childhood friend, female friend, without heed or warning. Without any actual reason, actually.

"Well" I stammered as I looked at my half empty plate, feeling all eyes on me. "It's just that there were some things going on, and I got too caught up them."

As if it were possible, his lips drew thinner and his expression sterner. "What could've been so important that you couldn't just tell us you were back?"

"Well, Ashley and I got married."

I looked up as soon as I felt all eyes leave me and settle on Spencer.

She looked relaxed, almost serene. I looked at my parents, who had a somewhat dumbfound expressions on their faces. And I wondered how in my love struck phase I had missed that this girl has absolutely no tact.

"Excuse me?"

I wasn't too sure who had said that. Because really, I wasn't too sure if I was about to confirm or recline that statement.

"We got married a few days ago." Spencer said as she pushed her chair back, and walked over to me. She gripped my hand, standing to my right.

"What do you mean got married?"

I wanted to laugh, but I honestly didn't please that was the socially approved reaction at a moment like this. "We um, tied the knot. You've been there, you know how it's done." My response might have possibly not been the socially approved one either. I could see their frowns grow heavier gradually, and I wondered if I should've opted for that more subtle approach I had been practicing all afternoon.

"Ashley and I have been together for a while now, and seeing how she was back here for good, we thought it was the right thing to do."

I looked up at Spencer quizzically, gently tugging at her hand. She gave me another smile and squeezed my hand. I didn't know what she was thinking, or why she'd want to complicate things that much further instead of just telling them what this was about. But I didn't think it smart to question her right this moment.

I watched as my father laughed out loud. "The right thing to do? Couldn't you go out on a date for instance? Why did you have to go and do something so foolish, Ashley?"

"What do you want me to say, dad?"

I could tell he was unpleased by my answer. But he stopped and turned to look at my mom as she laid a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head and sat back down.

My mom looked up at us, smiling softly. "We're just trying to understand why you'd do something so sudden like that?"

"Why not?" Spencer was looking back at them firmly, unfazed. "We're both adults, we've both graduated. What is there to stop us? " She lifted my hand to her lips, and softly kissed it.

They stood there looking at us, their expressions although still doubtful had considerably softened after her little charade.

I stood up, taking careful strides towards my parents. "I'm sorry this had to happen to like this. But this was my decision to make."

She nodded her head, linking her arm through dad's "All it is we're asking is for you to at least include us in big decisions such as this one."

I felt Spencer stand beside me, her hand coming up on my lower back, before she wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me to her. I felt my body instinctively lean against hers for support.

My mom leaned over, patting our joined hands. "Well, we better leave you two to rest tonight. Dinner was lovely.'

We walked towards the front door, Spencer holding my hand in hers. I looked at my dad, but he was already out the door, waiting. She leaned over and hugged me, whispering in my ear. "Congratulations honey. I just want you to be happy."

"I am, mom"

xxxxxxxxxxx

I squeezed my temples, my fingers rubbing the dips in circles. I leaned against the kitchen counter, having just put the dishes in the dishwasher.

I headed towards the living room, finding Spencer there with her feet now bare and hoisted on the coffee table. Her head was leaned back against the cushions, with her eyes closed.

"Nice improvising you did there."

She opened one eye, then quickly closed it again. I watched as she patted the couch next to her asking me to sit down. I sat, tucking one leg under the other. She scooted closer, her head coming to rest on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry"

I sighed, tilting my head to look at her, before begrudgingly moving, turning around so I can look at her properly. "What the hell was that, Spencer?

I heard her say something that sounded like a "hmphno." She then sat up abruptly, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I just…" She shrugged her shoulder, her hair had fallen into her eyes again, and I gripped her hands as they moved back up to tuck her hair behind her ears. "It just felt like the right thing to say."

She linked our fingers together, laying our joined hands in her lap. "I wanted them to know that you're loved, and that you've got someone who wants to take care of you and worry about you, and also smack you upside the head when you're a pain in the ass."

I chuckled at her last comment, shaking my head before sighing again and resting my temple against the cushions to look at her. "Romance at its best."

She unclasped our hands, and cupped my face. "Well, you are a pain in the ass, amongst other great things." I closed my eyes, sighing for the hundredth time that night before letting my eyes roam her face. "I know you care about the things they do and say much more than you let on. But it explains a lot you know."

I reached up, wrapping my fingers around her wrists while resting my elbows on my thighs. "And what would that be?"

"For one" She smirked, tapping my nose "It definitely explains where those pain in the ass genes came from."

I nodded, it did indeed make sense. "And what's for two?"

"Well, for two" She turned sideways, propping her feet on the coffee table again, and resting her head on my chest. "It definitely explains how you grew up into a strong and independent young woman."

I wrapped my arm around her back, gently caressing up her sides. "You know, I've missed this" I trailed my fingers down, smoothing the creases that had ridden up on her shirt "I've missed you."

She lifted her head, looking at me with a soft gaze. "I thought I was going have to wait another lifetime to hear you say that to me again."

"Yeah, so did I" I kissed her forehead, before leaning my head back against the cushion. "But I didn't feel like waiting that long."

xxxxxxxx

I placed the box upon the wooden shelf, not bothering to take out what was in it or even to check. I turned around, smiling to myself as I took in the office. It was bare, only what was left and worn out by the former owners still adorning the place.

I turned around as I heard footsteps coming through the door, only for it to not be Spencer walking through it with her own batch of boxes to help me move in into my new office, but a tall non-familiar looking brunette, thinking she was possibly lost or looking for whoever owned the place before I bought it with the hopes of turning it into my first clinic.

"Hello, how can I help you?" it's strange, the feeling of ownership, or maybe it's the feeling of a first ownership, or purpose, making one want to do, to say, to direct, to help.

"Um, I'm looking for Spencer. I called her office, and they said she was here for the day." She looked around, sparing a short look to the old wooden desk, the old and quite moldy looking leather couch and bare shelves. "I must say, I love what you haven't done with the place."

I raised my eyebrow, turning around to take this newcomer and their snide remark in. "Well, I've always been a huge supporter of the philosophy more is less." Lie, I've always been an extremists, I have absolutely no conception of more even less of less, it's always been all bets absolutely and screaming for reasonable thinking in, or nothing at all. "I see you are too." I smiled tightly, giving her less than cleavage-covering attire in.

She smiled back tightly at me, and although I had turned back around I could feel her eyes sizing me, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why I was feeling such animosity towards her. "Well, for my part, I've always been a supporter of the philosophy of if you've got it flaunt it."

"That sounds lovely. So what can I help you with again?" I reached out for the box I had just deposited on the shelf, taking out the volumes of books in it and stacking them neatly on said shelf.

"I'm looking for Spencer." She walked into the office, taking her bag off her shoulder and placing it on the desk before leaning her hip against it.

I nodded my head, walking around the desk to find more boxes to unpack"She should be here any minute" I opened one box finding some framed certificates and pictures in it, putting it back aside thinking it best to unpack it when the rest of the office is furnished. "I could call and see where she is. Who should I say is waiting?"

I watched her walk toward the shelves, scanning quickly through the titles of the books. "Natalie, her girlfriend."


	12. Basic Space

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline.**

**Flashbacks are in** _**italics.** _

Ever noticed how delightful some of the most minute things in life sound; like a box of tissues for instance; No, not those big carton boxes with fancy designs on them, but the skimpy looking nylon ones.

They make a shrieking painful noise when they're empty, used and abused, but hold them and press them tight when they're full, and the sound they emit is the crispiest, raspiest symphony.

It almost sounds as glorious as the cracking of little stones under heavy feet.

It never ceases to bring you back to nights spent drinking hot chocolate near the chimney, or just create them out of nothing.

Because really, how true is true?

Because life is all about the choices we make. So why should it be any different to what we choose to remember, to how we choose to run away.

Because life is not about choices we make, it's about the situations that made us choose.

And you always learn that the hard way.

She has a girlfriend, a girlfriend that is currently in my pre-mature office, looking through my books without a care in the world that the word she just uttered could possibly spin my world again off its axis. A girlfriend. Spencer's girlfriend. This girl, with her on show cleavage, and snarky comments, standing here, expecting me to give Spencer a call to tell her to come see her.

"But I've already tried calling her phone. She's probably forgotten it again somewhere or at home like she usually does."

A girlfriend, Spencer has a girlfriend. Spencer has a girlfriend who thinks she usually forgets her phone. She has a girlfriend who knows things to the extent of usually.

"She must've had." But I had it on good authority that Spencer had her phone with her, because she was sat in the car earlier, texting Kyla and Dawn on that Carlin Girl Power chat group that they have and giggling to herself while trying to convince me to join it. I, was putting up a fight, not sure why I was, except for the mere pretense of putting up a fight and creating a cute banter out of it. She won, when she said that Glen was in their Carlin Girl Power group.

Spencer has a girlfriend, a girlfriend whose phone calls she seems to usually ignore. I took my phone out of my pocket, throwing a look at the newcomer, seeing she was still occupied as she passed through my office, dust testing the surfaces.

"Your girlfriend is here looking for you." I pressed send, putting my phone back in my jean pocket.

xxxxxxx

_I launched my first attack at it, watching as a small hole materialized right through its center. I turned it around checking for the damage I had done and upon finding I had missed, I quickly marked my aim and jabbed again._

_I flipped it over, only to find I had yet again missed. I let out a sigh almost expecting to see my frustration leave me in little ragged puffs. I readied my stance, prepared to attack again only to stop as incessant pounding on my door finally got to me._

_I was surprised at the ferocity by which my door shook, and wondered how long my visitor had been knocking. "Entrez" I yelled for them._

_"Then unlock your stupid door, Ashley." a whiny voice called back with a french tilt from the other side of the door._

_I chuckled to myself for how wind up he was, and got up to let him in._

_He stood dancing excitedly on the balls of his feet and I just watched waiting for some sort of Broadway lights to come out of nowhere and the singing and dancing to start._

_"Nice outfit." I smirked as I took in his turquoise pants and yellow polo shirt. "And would you like me to wrap that door for you before or after you get it off its hinges?"_

_He looked incredulous, starring down at his pants as if it was his mother I had offended and she was about to cry. "I will have you know that these" He pointed down to his clothes. "are Versace. And you could have answered your door plus rapidement."_

_I rolled my eyes as he hurried to my mirror to adjust his outfit. "Really Alfred, no amount of fixing would make you look less funny. Embrace it."_

_I walked back to my desk, eyeing my captive that I had laid down... lucky bastard!_

_"Funny? Funny?" he shrieked in his heavily French accented voice and did a twirl in front of the mirror I had only seen 5 year old girls do in movies. I burst out laughing, my former unsettlement forgotten. There wasn't much to Alfred, really. But it was times like these that I missed Dawn the most, and I guess Alfred just camouflaged the void. He was a sweet guy, with a slightly extravagant sense of style._

_"If you are done laughing at me, get dressed so we could go out to dinner."_

_I watched as he continued adjusting his clothes in the mirror, before shooting a quick glance to the object on my desk. I twisted my neck right, then left, then right again until I heard the numerous cracking sounds. "I'll pass tonight; I've got a few things I need to take care of."_

_He turned around and walked towards me, grabbing my chair's armrests and spinning me around. "You always pass, Ashley. I'm sure those things can wait a few hours."_

_I looked up at him, weighting my options. I wanted to say I'm going to sleep, or had studying to do, but I decided against it. I was such a terrible liar. It's a shame all those psychology courses were doing nothing to my mind games ability. "I'd rather they didn't, Alf. You guys have fun."_

_He nodded, heading for the door. "Ashley" he stood his back to me, his hand just resting on the doorknob. "If you're so unhappy here, why not go back home?"_

_Because I don't know where that is anymore. "I'm not unhappy. You guys are just bad company."_

_I chuckled, but he didn't. "Goodnight, Ash."_

_I heard the door click shut, and kicked my feet to the ground twirling my chair until it came facing my desk. I picked my object of rather unpleasant fascination, quickly jabbing again and again. I flipped it over checking my target and finding it still stood safely where it had been. It's as if an unconscious power had been purposely driving me away from it, not that it would've helped to hit it; I had already memorized it so much I've scrutinized over it._

_"Allo" A raspy voice vibrated, and it suddenly hit me that I had my phone to my ear and had dialed the number written on the napkin I had torn._

_"Sophie, salut. C'est Ashley._

_xxxxxxx_

_I watched as she chewed on her electric blue straw, before puckering her lips and slowly sucking the liquid in. She closed her eyes, slowly swallowing her shake. I pretended to look behind her as her hazel greens came up to meet mine, unable to stop the strong urge to clear my throat. I had to forcedly stop my gaze from coming back down to meet her mesmerizing greens. I counted to four before allowing my eyes to meet hers, a technique I deemed bad as she gave me a knowing look. She moved her mug aside, and placed her elbows where it lay and rested her chin on her open palm. I don't think I've ever hated a color more than green. I don't think I've ever hated green before, until now. For some reason, it just had me calling her back when I've really all but tried not to._

" _I didn't think you would call. Not so soon anyway."_

_I shrugged my shoulders, trying my best to look nonchalant but the twinkle in her eyes told me she also knew best. "Well, I'm full of surprises."_

_She chuckled, shaking her head and I couldn't place if she was happy at my light approach or really disappointed. "Are they always so pleasant?"_

_I tried to stop what I knew was my charming smile from brightening my feature, but the sight of green looking so intently into mine was rendering me helpless. She was reading me, just like I've always tried to read through people's emotions. At least one of us knew what it was I'm feeling. "Well, seeing as you consider this one pleasant, then they must be."_

_She nodded, flattening her fingers upon the wooden surface and softly drumming. I couldn't help but compare the soft 'thud thud' of her neatly cut nails to the 'tick' of familiar long nails. I softly shook my head, steering it away from unwanted memories._

_She leaned a little to the left, taking a small sip of her shake. "How is France treating you so far?"_

" _It almost feels like home." I laughed at how heartfelt my own sardonic statement sounded. "Though, I'll never get to practice my French if you people don't actually speak it to me."_

_She shrugged and I followed the small creases that formed on her shirt as little peeks of her vanilla colored collarbone showed themselves. "I don't know about all those other people, but I'm just trying to insure your comfort, mademoiselle Davies."_

_Her eyes were twinkling with mischief and I couldn't help but smile. It was a tender sort of twinkle, like the little light your parents would let peek through your bedroom door as you sleep to keep the monsters at bay._

_I nodded trying to show my appreciation. This was truly the farthest from home I could be, from family and friends. There truly weren't any sense of familiarity here, and as much as I longed for it, wanted it, craved the change, it wasn't easy to cope._

" _So, what does this date entail?" she clapped her hands once, rubbing them excitedly, leaning her back against the cushion. "Other than the company of a gorgeous lady, of course"_

_I chuckled at her last line, although the word "date" spilt out of her lips, like cold water down my spine. This wasn't a date. "Such a line there, frenchie. Your charms won't get you there this night."_

_She bit her bottom lip, chuckling. "And you Americans should learn how to accept a compliment. Mon Dieu, such bad intentions."_

_I made a "mhmm" sound, picking up my forgotten muffin turning it around searching for the little chocolate chip before taking a small bite off of it. I looked up and met her mesmerizing watchful eyes. "Can't blame me for trying, non?"_

_So maybe this was slightly a date._

_xxxxxxxxxx_

"Ashley" I heard Spencer's voice walk in through the door before I turned around to watch her march towards me, placing the three boxes she was carrying stacked up on top of each other on the desk. "Sorry, baby, but I got a bit sidetracked."

"Baby?" I raised an eyebrow at her, dropping my head as I felt her fingers sneak between mine before she moved closer, pressing her lips to my cheek, dangerously close to my lips.

"I know, I know, I'm an awful helper." She says, brushing off my question as if I hadn't asked it. She turns her head smoothly to the side, as if only just noticing the huge elephant of a girl in the room. "Natalie, hi." She drops my hand, walking over to her and wrapping her arms around her neck in a casual hug. "Welcome back. I see you two have already met" She motions with her head to me.

I wasn't particularly sure what it was that I looked like right now. But by the emotions playing in me, I figured my eyebrows where either meeting my hairline in a look of bewilderment, or possibly contorted in a very heavy frown. One thing I was sure of though, I had no idea what was going on. And I really didn't like it.

"Natalie, this is my wife, Ashley."

I breathed out in reassurance as I saw Natalie flinch. Because flinching was good, flinching meant that I wasn't the only one who felt like I had just stepped into another dimension. But just like that, she had a smile plastered back on her face, and nodded her head towards me. "Congratulations."

I nodded, smiling, watching as Spencer said thank you. "Well, I should probably go, but I just wanted to see say hello to Spencer seeing how I just got back." I watched her hand trail up Spencer's arm, before she turned around to fully face her. "But I'd love to take you both out to dinner, maybe this Friday, for a belated celebration?"

I saw Spencer turn around to look at me, checking for my reaction, but I could only just stare, only managing a small resemblance of a shrug/frown/smile, before I heard her accept the offer. I turned around to the boxes Spencer had just deposited on the desk, making work of opening them and checking for what's inside. I heard high heels moving around the office before hearing Natalie's voice telling me goodbye. I turned my head, throwing a quick goodbye to her already marching figure.

I watched Spencer close the door, before she walked pass me to the boxes on the floor, kneeling by a few to start unpacking them. I sat on the desk, watching as she moved around the office for a few minutes, quite obviously intent on not saying anything.

"Spencer." I said her name, waiting for her to turn around and look at me, but when she didn't, only acknowledging me with a quiet "hmm", I said her name again, only to be met with a swift turn of her head and a yes.

"You're really just going to go about doing that" I frowned, reaching up with both my hands to pull my hair up in a bun, the room getting all of a sudden quite warmer and more irritating. "She said she was your girlfriend."

"She was." Spencer said, her hands fumbling with a few more tomes of books as she took them out of the box and placed them on the floor.

"Well up until a few minutes ago, I could've sworn she was still very sure and certain she was still your girlfriend." I shook my head, my breath coming out in a loud sigh that finally managed to get Spencer's attention. She stood, whipping her hands on her jean clad thighs before walking over to me. "She told me she was your girlfriend, you told her I was your wife." I shook my head again, trying to shake out the confusion grasping tightly to my thoughts. "I just don't understand. She didn't even say anything."

She tilted her head, watching me as her hands fumbled with the hem of her shirt before dropping to rest at her sides "It's complicated."

I let my eyes take hers in, her very guarded, very misted eyes, and I hesitated, once, twice, knowing my hesitation was showing as my lips moved a couple of times without uttering a word, not knowing what to say, what to ask, "Who is she?" I decided to settle on the simple question.

She shrugged, her eyes not meeting mine anymore. "She's a friend, with whom I had a thing."

I laughed, the humour of the situation coming out a bit stronger than anything I was feeling at the moment. I wasn't really feeling much at the moment, and it filled me with a huge amount of dread. I was standing here, talking to Spencer about 'a thing' she was having, has had, with someone else, someone who wasn't me. And it was all a bit too familiar for comfort. "A thing? As in dated? Because you know, the world girlfriend usually has a specific meaning in the modern world"

She nodded, her eyes still not meeting mine for a few seconds, before she did meet them, her stance wavering as she stuffed her hands in her back pockets, her back straightening. "Yes we did date."

"Then why didn't she say anything? I mean, if my girlfriend introduces someone to me as her wife, I'm almost sure I would've said something."

"Because she knew" She moved over to the couch, sitting down on the protruding armchair. "She knew that I had to get married soon. And…" She stops, shrugging her shoulders.

"And she offered her services." I laughed drily, nodding my head that I had understood. "But you didn't want her to." She didn't want complications, she wanted a friend's services.

"No, no I didn't" She shook her head, her hand coming down to rub her thighs before she got back up on her feet. "Let's get back to unpacking, there's a lot to do."

xxxxxxxxx

_I could hear the soft repetitive shuffling of my feet on the smooth cement. The crisp October wind more of a nibbler than a biter, as we slowly walk towards Sophie's house._

_I offered to accompany her when she said she'd rather walk than have me drive her. I always liked walking… but liking and doing are two separate things._

" _You didn't have to" she says for the 10th time. I could hear the grateful tone in her voice but I was getting exasperated by her constant thanking._

" _If you didn't want me to come, you could've just said so" I threw a sideways glance at her and almost burst out laughing at the stoic and emotionless stare she was giving me before carrying on "I'm a big girl, I can take it."_

_She shrugged, faking a few hesitant sounds before chuckling. "I'm glad that you did, though."_

_I pressed my pace, turning around to face her, walking backwards. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"_

" _Well" she droned, kicking a small rock, her neck craning as she observed the little rock's path as it rolled away, "You're interesting."_

_I snorted, because really? Interesting? "Does it by chance equate to your charm? 'Cause that'll be unfortunate." I shook my head, clicking my tongue. "Interesting? You won't be scoring with that one, ma puce."_

_She huffed playfully, trying to wave her hand around snobily but failing miserably. "I'm not trying to "score" as you oh so delicately dub it, Americana."_

_I raised an eyebrow stopping merely for suspense's sake "Huh…" I continued my backwards strut "I don't know if I'm supposed to be flattered or offended by that."_

_She stayed silent, and I watched as her features lost their playful glint "Well I wouldn't do that, not when your heart belongs to another."_

_I stiffened, stopping my strut to stare at her. "It's only on a minor lease."_

_She nodded, and I guess that was our cue to continue walking in silence. I turned back around, now walking forward and staring up ahead._

_I felt a hand wrap around my wrist and pull me back. "It's okay, we're here already"_

_I turned around, staring at the old picturesque building, its beautiful arches and the October fall ridden tree near the entrance. It was beautiful. And I couldn't help but think she was beautiful, standing there bouncing on the balls of her feet._

" _Would you like to come up?"_

_I furrowed my brows, not expecting the sudden invitation after our awkward silence. "I thought my heart belonged to another. Besides, I really shouldn't"_

" _I just want to talk, I told you, you're interesting." She took a step forward, freeing my left wrist from her hold and squeezing my right hand before gently holding it in her own "I'd like to think that just for tonight, your heart's right here."_

 _I could actually hear the air penetrating my lungs, as my soft sigh was followed by a much needed heave. I should stop this._ _But I didn't know what it was I had to stop, to give up on?_

_I was more surprised by the small voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like Alfred's that told me I should start instead._

_I looked down, catching the clock as it hit midnight. I steadied my vision, and watched again the clock read 12:01. I had been staring at my wrist for a whole minute._

_It was now the 24th. It was a new day, a new chance for a new start._

_I looked up to find her emerald orbs patiently awaiting mine. I smiled. "Okay."_

_She turned around, unlocking the gate, and I sneaked a look up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle. Happy Birthday, Spencer._

xxxxxxxxx

I flipped my phone open as I heard it vibrate for the tenth time tonight and read the text. Alfred has been having one of his monthly fits, and I had been trying to calm him down for an hour. I could swear that guy had PMS.

I look wistfully at my bedroom window, watching as the rain poured outside. I loved sleeping while it rained. I averted my eyes as the first ray of lightning struck, and whimpered as the sudden flash blinded my vision.

"Ash."

I rolled unto my side looking at the phone alarmed, half expecting Alfred's head to pop out of it.

"No, honey" I rolled again now on my back once I registered that the sound came from the doorway. "Phones do not just call out for you."

Spencer stood at my door in her brown sweatpants and red hoodie watching me amusingly. I blushed at my own silliness, clearing my throat before speaking. "Are you okay?"

She stuffed her hands in her hoodie, and looked down at her bare feet. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I stared at her, waiting 'til she'd meet my gaze again, and when she didn't I sat up as realization hit me. "For real?"

She groaned and I burst out laughing. She's still afraid of thunderstorms.

She turned around, marching out the door and into the corridor. "No, Spencer, I'm sorry." I patted the spot next to me. "Come here"

I watched as she hesitated before walking back towards my bed, hesitating for a moment, and stopping in the middle of the room before walking to the other side of the bed and climbing in. Well, I suppose she decided to invite herself in for a sleepover. I adjusted the covers before retreating back to my side. She grabbed my shirt, pulling me back in, my front almost touching her left side. "Stay, you're warm." I swallowed as her soft breath came washing over my forehead.

Her scent was intoxicating as it filled the air and penetrated my nostrils. I closed my eyes as my senses took her in. I could feel her everywhere, although she wasn't really touching me, but I could swear that every pore in my body could feel her heat, even the coldness of her feet that weren't touching mine.

Another ray of lightning struck and was quickly followed by high pitched thunder. I felt Spencer shudder, and instinctively placed my open palm on her stomach. She turned unto her side facing me, reaching for my arm and draping it around her waist. I instinctively pulled her into me, against all rational protest, heavily sighing as she settled her head in the crook of my neck.

I felt her lips move against my neck as she spoke and I couldn't help but take a huge gulp of air through my nose "Who were you texting?"

I moved my fingers softly, tentatively caressing her side, feeling her hoodie shift because of my motions. I hesitated, wondering if I should readjust it or leave it. "Alfred, a friend from France. He's having boy trouble" I filled in briefly, before moving my caresses back down stopping at the waistband of her pants. I dragged my nails gently along the little patch of skin uncovered, smiling inwardly as she shivered and goosebumps emerged under my fingers.

She nodded, snuggling in closer into me. "You know, you still haven't told me about France."

Another batch of thunder reverberated, shaking the windowpane, but she didn't shiver. She let out a soft pleased mumble, resting her hand next to her head, against my collarbone, and burying a few fingers in my hair.

I sneaked my fingers underneath her shirt, moving my caresses to her back. I felt her breathing evening, as I started drawing small eight figures against her lower back. "We'll have time for that soon."

We laid there in silence for a few minutes, and I listened, trying to ascertain by her breathing if she had fallen asleep or not. "Spencer."

She didn't answer, but gently hummed that she had heard. "When did you become a womanizer?"

I felt her laughter before hearing it as it washed across my neck, wanting to pull back to look at her but not daring break whatever spell that has washed over me at her closeness. "I'm not a womanizer"

I rolled my eyes to myself, taking her answer for what it was, more stalling. But if she was in here, in my bed, in my arms, I supposed it was safe to assume that whatever guard I had seen come up in her eyes earlier today must have dropped. She was still here, still unmoving. "Okay. I can rephrase that." I tapped my fingers against her skin, hoping to communicate whatever sort of calming emotion that had seemed to take over me, as if this question wasn't life changing to me, as if it meant nothing. Because it meant nothing, it was just a curious inquiry. "When did you become anything remotely interested in women?"

"I might have discovered a certain Sapphic interest back in college." I chuckled gently at her wording, tucking my chin on top of her head as I stared at the dark silhouette of the dresser ahead. "And how has that been treating you?"

I felt her shift, one of her legs sneaking between mine as her hand snuck further up my collarbone to cup around my neck. "It's been quite liberating."

I let my fingers rest flatly against her lower back, letting out a long breath and with it all my questions for the night. I didn't need to ask them all tonight, and I didn't need to get all my answers tonight. As she sunk further into me, I realized I didn't really need much of anything right this moment, even if it might all backfire soon enough and my overthinking might be driving me mad as soon as she moved out of my arms. But right this moment, she felt she was everywhere, and I was just as happy being nowhere.


	13. Don't look away

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the storyline.**

_**Flashbacks are in italics.** _

Ceilings. You stare at them, you sing while you stare at them, you sigh while you stare at them. It's like trying to see through a wall. I don't think I have any idea what I am on about, at this moment. But yes, ceilings, such a fascinating concept.

Anything will seem fascinating when you're trying to stir away from that one thought haunting you.

Sunday always smells of death. Death, death smells sweet; it is only the dead that rot. But death, it would only be a Sunday.

There's something about a Sunday. There's something about a Sunday that just strikes. It's as if it's a day that merely happens, unbeknownst, and like a whisper, bestows itself upon you, unprecedented, like death, always sudden. Whether it be a milkman getting hit by a truck on an errant morning, or a dying man upon his death bed, death, Sunday, is always sudden.

And you're yet to wonder why Monday feels like mourning, desperate longing, and the smell of aberrant nostalgia.

Unlike the scent of a Sunday, as you first open your eyes, sickling and alluring, elusive, like silk, it both feels good, inviting, yet sinfully seductive. Mondays smell of ultimate transparency, like losing your clothes, and being slapped with a wet towel of truth upon your skin. Mondays smell of labour, of water breaking, of painstakingly long hours of torment, until you've been given birth to on a Tuesday.

I've always found it strange that the week should start on a Monday when you've only had so much time to recover. By the time Tuesday comes, you are surrounded by a peculiar scent, that of strangeness. And as you try to comprehend what that scent assaulting your senses is, you struggle, you squint your eyes, flex your fingers, and wiggle your toes. You don't know if it'll help but you do it, because you feel confused, maybe even scared, intimidated and small, a toddler, because the world smells strange and you are utterly too dumbfound to take it in. By the time wednesday comes, you've gotten acquainted with the smell.

You're not quite sure, but you think a wednesday smells like romance. It smells, gentle, so gentle that it would look utterly wrong with a capital letter; Wednesday. No, Wednesday, is intimate. It smells like her, your lover's shoulder, but not quite, just the little dimple you like to nuzzle into. It smells like your crumbled sheets and your legs tangled together, and it smells like your intertwined fingers.

Wednesday smells like your first word to her and your first step towards her, your first kiss and the first time you said you loved her, it smells like a first, you reckon, there'll be a more times to come.

But by the time Thursday comes, dragging along the scent of a midlife crisis, seconds don't really matter anymore, and you feel like you're racing, not only you, but even your legs have lost harmony, racing against each other, and you're stuck in a limbo, watching your limbs rush you forward, right winning, left losing, left winning, right losing, until they smell the respite on Friday.

Fridays smell like a destination, it smells like a stop, a breather, a daisy, and a donut. It smells like aging, and you don't want to age, it smells like maturity and you don't want to mature quite yet. And you make up your mind, and by the time you breathe in Saturday, Sunday happens, always, suddenly.

Peculiar, isn't it? How time flies. Yet, we cope with the facts, the ones we've come to terms of making so with our weird twists of reality, where we spend most of our lives running. First we chase the things we want the most, and then we run and hide so obviously from them, in front of them, when we're faced with certain decisions.

Peculiar, isn't it? How insomnia strikes the mind, yet crushes the heart.

Peculiar, isn't it? How dwelling is humanly gained, yet forgetting is never, no matter what, obtained.

Peculiar, isn't it? How the things that mostly come to mind when they ask us about happy thoughts, are the things that hurt us the most.

But yes, death will always come unexpected.

But perhaps death is a journey, to a better place. And maybe that's why those gone, leaving their loved ones behind, just never wish to come back. And maybe, that's all there is to compensate the loss.

The next best thing to fascination is frustration.

I lingered at her bedroom door, berating myself for my hesitation. A few years back, I would have already barged in, unattended for, after a gentle knock not even having waited for an answer.

Common sayings are such tricky little things. Leave your place and you lose it they say. But somehow, these common sayings always seem to find a way to apply to you, and never truly to other people at their receiving ends.

"Kyla" I knocked softly, opening the door only a smidgen, not even peeking inside, only to call again through the open space. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, Ash." She was sat on her bed, her laptop perched on her thighs. I walked over, leaning my hip against the edge of the mattress and looking at her. She never took her eyes off the screen, but she did tilt it a little towards me and I allowed myself then to look.

There was a slideshow on the screen, pictures flashing for a few seconds before they made way to another. And I wanted to give her another courtesy, the one of treating her like a grown-up, because I could see how much she was battling with being one.

"Does it get easier?"

She smiled, a tiny smile, her head nodding and I didn't think she realized it was "It does, it really does." She shrugged her shoulders, and I knew that one was voluntary "I mean, how could it not? I've been nothing but loved here."

I return her smile, nodding my head at her "That is a very big plus."

She shrugs her shoulder again, breathing in shortly before letting it come out in a barely there sigh "You know, but sometimes, it feels wrong, when I can't imagine my life being otherwise anymore. I like it the way it is now, and sometimes it feels wrong to think that"

I slide further up the bed, leaning my back against the headboard and inching my body towards hers "Kyla, we're always guilty of things, of feeling certain things. But we're never guilty of feeling happy, not when we're genuinely happy, when we have something good and know how to appreciate it, and grasp it and live it." I reach over, linking my arm through hers before resting my head on her shoulder "You are very much loved, you know. But people who are here and others who are not anymore."

"You think they still love me?" And I knew what she was asking, this wasn't grown-up Kyla anymore, this was little Kyla, asking herself those oddly heavy-loaded existential questions that children ask and that we forget when we grow up. She was only just asking where they are, if they were still there.

"I'm really not sure about that. But scientifically speaking…" I tilt my head, showing her my toothy smile, the one that said I really had no idea what to think about that, just like she didn't. "Nothing is ever lost. And certainly not consciousness." I rest my head back in its place, watching the pictures go by with her. "And what more proof is there than you holding it inside you, in little things and places that hold it too.

xxxxxxxxxx

_"Doubt" his voice resonated is the vast hall, followed by a loud thud as he slammed his hand down on the desk. "isn't but belief camouflaged._

_He walked to the front of his desk, leaning his hips back against it. "Doubt is the yearning to believe." He scanned the hall, looking at each of us with a little smile on his face. He stopped, which I guessed was for suspense's sake, before taking a deep breath to resume his lecture._

_"Because when we don't believe in something..." a raspy voice interrupted him from the back rows, and it was so familiar that I didn't need to search for its owner, I simply turned around looking at them."... We will downright refuse it. Whereas when we stop to doubt something, we are only giving it time to prove those doubts wrong. Thus, proving that we want to actually believe."_

_She sat swirling her pen between her fingers, a thoughtful look gracing her features. I knew she didn't even realize she answered. She tended to think out loud often. And I tended to be there to catch each and every one of her ramblings._

_I turned back in my seat, finding that the professor had drawn a smiley face on his board and was looking at her amusingly. "Very good, Sophie."_

_The bell rang, and I leaped to gather my things and leave. As much as this class was enjoyable, it was still a class, and my automatic reflex at the sound were nothing short of Pavlovian._

_I walked to the door, avoiding the huge mass that was leaving. There were quite a big number of students taking this class. Sure, it was just English, but everyone was fond of the professor's tendency to attack deep subjects._

_I walked out briskly, stopping to lean against the wall by the door. I looked at the people passing by, happily carrying on with their day or just content doing it. I've come to realize that the key to achieving anything is misery. All those men that history remembered, that someone ever remembered, were miserable. They were miserable with what they had, and wanted to search for more anywhere and everywhere._

_I felt an arm sneak around my waist and a kiss down on my cheek. "I woke up and you weren't there."_

_I smiled at the sight of her mischievous greens "I had an 8 o'clock class." I returned her greeting kiss with one of my own "You looked peaceful and I didn't have the heart to wake you."_

_She looked up at me from her taller frame, her tongue poking through her lips. "Since when did you start attending morning class?"_

_I reached for her books, holding them as we walked towards the cafeteria. "Since professors started threatening to drop me." I looked sideways at her, finding her smirking. It was partly her fault I never made it to my morning classes. I was a lazy all by myself, she was just additional motivation. "Very impressive, by the way."_

_She shot me a confused look, and I pointed with my hand back to the classroom letting her know I meant her earlier performance. She blushed, shrugging her shoulders in a modest gesture. "Well I try"_

_I halted, reaching for her hand. She stopped and turned around facing me. I looked at her soft features, stopping to gaze at the deep emotions seeping from her eyes. I sighed internally, because I knew that somewhere in there she did mean what she said. And it was my fault she felt inadequate._

_"You don't need to." I tucked a stray hair lock behind her ear, trailing my finger down her cheek. She closed her eyes, smiling softly, and I trailed my sight down her perfectly sculptured brows. "No more than you do. You don't need, nor do I want you to make any effort for me, Soph. You're perfect."_

_Her soft smile turned into a beautiful lopsided one, and I felt my heart beat a little slower knowing she was reassured._

_"Besides" I continued, my arm resting on her shoulder while I twirled her hair between my fingers. "It's me, who needs to shape up if any, if you keep them unexpected ramblings at unexpected times."_

_She leaned in, her lips softly grazing mine once, and then as if rethinking, another time. I felt an electric current run through me._

" _Well, you seem to be of great inspiration." She linked our fingers and turned back to head towards the cafeteria and I felt a tug at my own heart along the one with my hand._

" _So, how's your apartment hunt going?"_

_I settled our books down on the table in a pile, looking at the little board to see what would be our meal of the day. "I think I found the one. And you're coming to check it out with me this afternoon." She nodded and I was satisfied with that._

_I walked back with our trays, putting them down on the table with a grunt. "You know, I miss the crappy Mac and Cheese."_

_She took her fork out of the napkin, taking a bite out her plate. "This isn't so bad. And there's cheese in it."_

_I took my fork out of its napkin, tentatively poking at the food. "It looks like a blonde wig. An old lady's blonde stuffed with cheese."_

" _Awh, mon petit bébé." She reached across the table to pinch my cheek and I swatted her hand away. "Looks like someone is homesick."_

" _No, you just have crappy food here."_

 _She laughed, wolfing down the rest of her food. "It's a college cafeteria. They're supposed to make crappy food."_ _I huffed, digging into my plate. It didn't taste so bad. It was actually good, but I couldn't back down now._

_I caught my watch as I was dodging the flying fruit pieces coming at me, noticing I had 5 minutes to get to my next class before the professor sent me back out/_

_I got up, dumping my tray in the trash behind Sophie, leaning down to peck her cheek before I ran to class._

" _Ashley"_ _I looked up from the pile of books on the table as I was trying to drag mine from the bottom. I frowned upon seeing the obvious hesitation replace her earlier playfulness._

" _You know, spring break is coming up, and I was wondering if maybe you should go back home and visit."_

_I opened my mouth to reply, but dismissed the idea upon realising I had nothing to say, neither of the smart nor stupid variety. I opened my mouth again, probably out of simple instinctive reaction to being asked something, but again came out with absolutely nothing to say._

_She knew I was hurting, and I knew she wanted me to let her in. And I wanted to let her in. I wanted to let her in on my thoughts and emotions, but how could I when every thought running in my head and every emotion coursing through my body was of pure betrayal to her. I wanted to let her into my heart, but how could I when I still didn't seem to have it._

_I blinked for a fragment of a second and it was enough for a vision of her blue orbs to come slicing through my consciousness. Apparently I had taken her eyes with me, while she took my heart._

_I nodded, no shook, my head. I don't know what it was I did, it was something between a nod and a shake, a yes and a no._

" _It's her, isn't it? You're afraid of seeing Spencer."_

_I didn't look at her, because I didn't want to see the pain I knew must've been in her eyes. I loved Sophie, I really did. But I couldn't help it, I loved Spencer more than anything._

" _I've been gone for almost 2 years now Sophie. If anything, I'm not just afraid of her."_

_I continued gathering my books, turning to leave. "Meet me at my dorm room at 7 so we'd go see the apartment."_

xxxxxxxxx

I have been downing cup after cup of coffee for nearly 2 hours now. It was almost 7 but the sun still hasn't risen. We spent the night at the Carlin's so we could all drive together to Kyla's parents' memorial this morning. And as I started to have trouble sleeping last night, I realized it was because, like every other time I wasn't sleeping at home, I had even more terrible insomnia than before. And it settled quite heavily in my stomach as I realized furthermore that I was starting to consider Spencer's like home.

I blew out the smoke from my cigarette, flicking the ashes over the railing. It's a weird habit, smoking, but this tiny tug to flick the cigarette was even weirder when the ashtray was right there.

"Don't look at it and muse like it's a fascinating object, it's just nasty." I rolled my head back, sneaking an upside down glance at her. "And your dietary regime of coffee and then more coffee with the side of occasional food still hasn't changed."

She walked over, sitting on the chair right next to mine, and I placed my hand over my stomach to rub it from the excess of caffeine beverage in it. Now coffee, was a fascinating nervous habit. She reached over, covering my hand with hers, before slipping it under it to take over the rubbing.

"I stopped by your room last night to say goodnight, but you weren't there" her fingers made a slow circular motion over my shirt, and I just relaxed back into my chair, my head tilted slightly to the left so I can look at her. "I stopped by Kyla's a while later, I figured I'd find you there." She stopped her motion, her fingers deviating towards mine that were now resting on my thigh before gently tapping the tips of hers against my knuckles. "And found two sleeping beauties."

I chuckled softly, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. "I dozed off for a bit with her, then I woke up and headed to my room." I opened one eye to look at her. "I was going to come in and check on you but I figured you'd be asleep."

"Did you get any sleep since then?" I shook my head at her question and I felt her fingers stop their tapping before they proceeded to gently trace the back of my hand. "You know, Kyla reminds me so much of you sometimes. She's so full of love and care, so much wise beyond her years although she does have a child in there that loves to come out and play."

I chuckled again at that last part, knowing that I definitely did have a very childish side that loved to come out on display every now and then. "And she definitely loves to brood every now and then."

She chuckled this time, and as silence came upon us for a few moments, I didn't want to open my eyes and look at her because I didn't really want to have to define what sort of silence it was. She finally extracted her fingers and I heard the slight protesting noise of her chair that meant she was leaning back into it.

"I remembered every year when I was away." I reached for another cigarette, thinking I'd indulge in a last one for the day. "The date, I mean, this date." I brought it to my lips before lighting it, taking a long drag. "and I wanted to call her, check on her. One specific year when I was feeling a little down and homesick, I even contemplated coming for a visit, but I thought she was probably doing fine."

"She was probably fine, she is, but I'm sure she would've loved to see you nonetheless." I felt her move closer and I opened my eyes, watching as she reached for the mug settled between my legs and retrieved it, taking a sip of my coffee before cradling in her hands. "I thought about calling you all the time, I knew Dawn knew how to reach you, some days I even contemplated going over to visit you myself, but I didn't think you'd want me to do that."

"I probably wouldn't have." I watched her face contort in a small sad smile at my admission, before she nodded. I wanted to tell her that some nights, I prayed she would, but she didn't need to know that. "But you don't need to feel bad about not calling Kyla" she shrugged, turning her head to look at me over the rim of the mug. "I know how much you love her, and she knows it too, and it probably took a lot of courage not to reach out to her."

And I found myself stuck in a double-entrendre all over again, and I wondered why there was always so many things left unsaid in my life, all the time, that I always had an ear out trying to decipher what I was hearing and what I must try and listen to, and if it was all only just in my head.

"We should probably go get ready, everyone will be up soon." I nodded at that statement, having been still since the last, before reaching out to take the mug from her hand and the ashtray, making my way first to the kitchen before marching upstairs.

"Ashley" I halted, turning around from my place on the stairs. She was standing by the landing one of her feet propped up on the first step and I wondered again how it was she always did that without me hearing her. I waited a few seconds, but it didn't seem like she was about to talk. She had her hands buried in the pockets of her worn out old grey sweater.

"I wanted to, um..." She was stuttering and fidgeting and I found it entirely endearing. I stood waiting for because I've come to learn that interrupting a nervous person is never a good idea, even if just to encourage them. I descended the few steps I had taken, standing in front of her.

She took a step back, taking her hand out of her pocket and reaching out to give me a little box she had taken out of it. I glanced at her, then down at the box before taking it feeling how shaky her hands were as our fingers brushed. I opened the box, seeing but not quite registering what it was I was looking at.

There, in the middle of the burgundy box lay a silver circular object with gold lining creating a perfect yellow circle in the middle of shiny greyish white, only interrupted at the middle as if holding together a small white gem.

"It's a ring."

She chuckled, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and I noticed for the first time today that she had a matching one on her finger, wondering if she had just slipped it on or had it all the time when we were outside on the porch "I knew you wouldn't want something very extravagant, so I went with simple and elegant."

As I took it out, and slipped it through my finger, I was hit with the sudden feeling of a foreign object, a foreign organ, and I stared at it for a long moment, wanting to make sure that with only just laying on my finger and not about to merge with my flesh. And it hit me how odd all of this was as I had never even thought about the necessity of a ring before, when it's the first thing a to-be married couple would pick together. But, we're not a couple. And even these rings, we didn't even pick them together.

I looked up, and she seemed hesitant as if berating something. I ended her torment by hurriedly slipping fully into my finger. "No more room for doubts now."

xxxxxxxxx

The hour drive to the chapel was mostly silent, even with Dawn and Kyla in the backseat chatting about idle matters. Even as I took a wrong turn since I kept being distracted by the ring on my fingers every time I chanced a glance at my hands on the wheel of Spencer's car, it stayed silent.

We walked into a moderate crowd. I was expecting a more morbid mood, until I remembered that this was indeed a 5 year memorial and it was more of a yearly family gathering routine by now than anything.

We were a little late, due to my silent wrong turn, and the ceremony had already begun. No one paid much attention to our arrival, expect for a pair of huge brown eyes that I saw peek from the first row of seats. The little peek was followed by a little squeal and a faster than light body ran and flung itself into Spencer's arms.

I smiled lopsidedly as I watched Spencer pick up the little form that had its legs wrapped around her waist giving it a hearty squeeze. The little head turns towards me, little blonde curls framing a small pretty smiling face. "Hi Leelee."

I grinned at the old nickname, finding myself very happy to be remembered as my hand came up in a small wave. "Hey Alex"

An old woman turned around shushing us and we got a few glares from here and there. Alexis loosened her hold on Spencer's neck allowing her to put her down before she grasped both of hands and tugged us forward to sit in the front row.

I've never been the most religious person out there, and I've never taken the time to go to church. And priests in particular, I've never taken a liking to. There was something about the preaching that always sounded like a cheap story from a cheap life philosophy novel to me. But then again, there was also something quite fascinating about the masses huddled together under the comforting banner of faith, although in reality none of them worshipped the same exact values in each of their heads or the same exact God that they've pictured in their minds.

I looked sideways, watching as Spencer thumb-wrestled with Alex, both trying to stiffen their giggles and ignoring the glares she was still receiving from a few people around. And I couldn't help but smile as I caught both of their eyes, looking up sheepishly at me.

xxxxxxxx

I reached, ringing the doorbell before taking a step backwards to stand next to Spencer. We heard voices and chatter coming from inside and guessed everyone had already arrived. There was a family lunch gathering at the Carlin's and by the number of cars outside and at the ceremony, I really wasn't feeling too excited to be back in there.

I felt Spencer's hand slip through mine just as the door was opened, and by the smile on the man's face, I was almost certain I should be recognizing him, but then again, maybe he was just smiling at Spencer.

We walked in, and a second later I found myself wrapped up in a hug which I lightly returned. He let go of me, wrapping his arms tightly around Spencer, engulfing her in a big hug. "It's good to see you, Uncle Joe."

"It's good to see you again, Spence" He pulled back to look at the both of us "Or shall I say, Mrs. Davies?"

I breathed out a laugh, turning my head to look at Spencer, and I knew I was making this moment an awkward one, but how could I not be? She smiled, poised, her hand slipping back through mine. "We haven't really decided on that one yet, but I think that I like the sound of it" she said, giving me a lopsided smile.

We walked through the small corridor and into the living room, and I almost whimpered when I saw the crowd in there, family members I knew and others who I didn't.

I could see on some of their disturbed faces that everyone knew of the marriages, as few went on asking not so subtle questions about it amongst themselves, turning back around to give us tight lipped smiles.

Paula came by, tugging at my hand to take a seat. I looked around, not finding but near the glass doors and I placed my hand on Spencer's lower back, pointing with my head for her to sit down. She guided me to it gently pressing on my shoulder until I was sat. She positioned herself between my legs, settling down on my right knee.

I looked up at her smug face, shaking my head although my arm went automatically around her back to support her "Don't you look pleased with yourself?" I laughed lightly, until I noticed the amost complete silence around.

"Mrs Carlin asked when and how you were planning on getting a kid, Ashley?" Paula threw at us, her face contorted in a weird expression, and I realized she was trying to stiffen a smile. And for a moment, I remembered why I always thought this family was the strangest of families I have ever met.

I had no idea who this Mrs Carlin was so I decided not to look at any of the four Mrs Carlis staring at us. "Well" I looked at Spencer, her head was tilted and she had a look on her face that told me that I shouldn't have uttered that simple word, because now it was really up to me to give an answer. "We're still getting used to being newly wedded. We're not planning on having any children right now"

I noticed the relieved looks on their faces at having rescued the innocent child from the evil lesbian couple, and it was all I needed to be prompted "But we'd like to sometime soon."

I looked at Spencer's all too joyful features, sceptically before whispering "We're not really planning on it anytime soon, are we?"

She laughed, reaching up to tuck a stray lock away from my eyes before leaning in closer than necessary to whisper to me "Not anytime too soon, no."

I tightened my hold on her back, feeling the fabric of her black blazer tickling my fingers. She looked gorgeous in her suit and her white silk shirt and I was sure I could catch a glimpse of black suspenders under her blazer. She was wearing black pants, hugging her curves just tightly enough as they went down shapely legs, ending at calves to make way a pair of black heels.

As much as I hated wearing heels myself, there was something ultimately erotic by the sound of heels clicking on the floor.

"Leelee" I looked at the double doors, as Alexis came rushing through them and throwing herself at me. "Look at that. Two very gorgeous ladies at hand's reach." I wiggled my eyebrows at Spencer and Alex.

Spencer giggled, as Alex was too busy tugging at my sleeve to get up. "Come on, Leelee, Jane is waking up." Spencer got up, motioning for me to go, silently telling me she'll carry on answering the inappropriate barrage of questions.

I took Alex's hand, following her into her into one of the bedrooms where a crib was placed near the far wall. Alex let go of my hand as she ran to peek over the bars.

I walked towards the crib, looking down at the noisy baby. I really didn't know a lot of children, other than I've learned about in class and what I've been around in my internships. But I've never really been around a child in such familiar setting.

She wasn't fussing, she was laughing. I smiled at how adorable she looked with her orange overalls and her feet sticking up in the air. I expected a different course of emotions to wash over me, but it was just a mumble-jumble of mushiness.

I looked to my left and I saw Spencer leaning over the crib next to me. "Would you like to hold her?"

I reached down, gently closing my hands around body and lifting her. I placed one hand under legs offering her a comfortable seat and the other arm steadying her back. She was beautiful, with her almost white blonde short locks, her big grey eyes, and cute button nose.

"Watch this" Alex said, climbing on a chair so she's the same height as me. "Jane, give Ashley some love."

As if on cue, Jane rests her head on my shoulder and wraps her small arms around my neck. "Awh, that's the cutest thing ever." I nuzzled her cheek, planting a soft peck on her temple.

"Did she start speaking yet?" I asked Alex, who was caressing Jane's tiny fingers.

"She can say some words." Jane turned around, looking at Alex, probably recognizing her voice. "Say Leelee" Alex repeated.

I kissed her forehead again, repeating the name for her say. She quietly uttered something that sounded like "eewyee" and I chuckled lightly.

I felt an arm wrap around my waist and looked back finding Spencer looking at Jane lovingly. "Hey, little beauty" she said, offering her finger for Jane to grab.

"Can I?" She asked, pointing at Jane. I nodded, passing Jane to her. She held her carefully, balancing her on one hip then the other. Jane must've liked the little air throws because she started flailing her arms and laughing.

I turned around, walking to Alex who was still standing on the chair and motioning for her to jump on my back. She did and I put my hands under her thighs. She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck.

I walked us back to where Spencer now sat on the bed tickling Jane. "Watch this" I told her. "Give Spencer some love, Jane."

And on cue again, Jane wraps her tiny arms around Spencer's neck and buries her face in her neck. I watched as Spencer's face methodically softened and frame all but melted into the little toddler on the bed, and turned to wink at Alex.

I sat next to Spencer on the bed, falling back carefully not wanting to crush Alex under my weight. She giggled as she struggled to escape.

I lifted my back slightly, allowing her escape before settling back down with my arms behind my head. She crawled on the bed, before lying horizontally with her chin on my stomach. "Were there cheese buildings where you were?"

I heard Spencer chuckle and reciprocally Jane chuckled. I laughed at that, before looking down at Alex. "Why would there have been cheese buildings there?"

She squinted looking thoughtful "Well it's the great land of cheese." She said happy with her answer, before looking doubtful "Or something."

I reached pinching her nose before trailing my fingers through her locks. "That would be Switzerland sweetheart. I was in France." I laughed before continuing "And even there, I don't think there would be any cheese buildings. They just have delicious cheese."

"Oh" She said, looking sheepish before she settled back on my stomach.

I winced at the sudden light weight that settled on my stomach, and saw Jane pawing her way over to me. She pawed a couple times before her tiny arms gave out and Spencer gently lifted her, settling her gently on my stomach where she led comfortably. I pulled her up, settling her against my chest. I felt two arms drape my stomach as Spencer and Alex cuddled into me.

"Lunch is ready everyone" We heard Joe call out, before his head peeked through the door. "Come on now, you all can nap later."

I waited for my restraints to move, but they seemed both, and the third gurgling one, happy with their positions. "You ladies comfy?" to which I received a "yep", a "mhmm" and another "grr" that really didn't know what it was agreeing to except the fact other sounds where coming out in the room.

I rolled my eyes as no one moved. "This all is nice, but I am starving." I pulled up, keeping a protective arm around Jane, both Alex and Spencer rolling off of me with Spencer begrudgingly straightening up.

"And they say a way to a man's heart is through his stomach. That's because they haven't met your Leelee yet." She mumbled to Alex, before lifting her under her arm and following me into the dining room.


	14. Coincidentally and arranging

"Seriously, I cannot believe that they made her the killer.’ Dawn huffed walking along side Kyla, both of them sandwiching Alex in the middle.   
"Such a waste of gorgeousness." Kyla whined about how Emily Browning turned out to be the murderer at the end of the movie. I nodded, watching as Alex took a little detour to stand beside me, her little fingers sneaking into mine.   
"I cannot believe you made us drag a ten year old to that movie." I looked down at the little unsettled girl walking quietly next to me, thinking back with a cringe to the rotten children’s corpse that kept jumping out of nowhere throughout the film.   
"You okay, sweetie?" I asked Alex as she walked back out of the restroom after a few minutes of waiting for her.   
She smiled, nodding. "Yep, just all those sodas, you know." She trailed off, rubbing her tummy.  
I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, tilting her head up with the back of my knuckles. "Are you sure?"  
She laughed, shoving me a little bit. "Yes, jeez Leelee. It was just a movie!"  
"Yes, jeez Leelee." Dawn said mockingly "If you don't cheer up, me and Mini-Spencer here are going to the movies alone next time."  
She winked at Alex, and I watched as she blushed. It was quite obvious the little girl was quite enamoured with Dawn, as her head came down, her blonde locks coming to frame her face. She really did look like a little Spencer with her lopsided smile and her head fighting a coy tilt, and I found myself thinking what would Spencer’s children look like someday and if they’d have the twinkle in her eyes or the raspy wisp of her sleepy voice.   
Genetics often don’t do people justice, mostly covering the basics of what makes someone what they are, the colour of their hair, the shape of their nose, but not rarely enough their core traits, their nervous habits, the way they say certain words or the way they move their hands, making something as simple as gripping a pen seem like it could hold within it the answers to the universe’s most complex mysteries.   
But then again, it was a blessing they didn’t, otherwise no one would have the chance to recover what’s left of our slight possibility to be as authentic as we can to ourselves, considering the small hue of pathways we actually get to choose.   
"Wish Spencer was here too." I smiled at Alex's well-timed outburst, nodding my head to tell her I agreed. “She had some work to do at the magazine." Spencer had been a little behind on her schedule, what with everything that has been going on and then choosing to take a couple of days off to help me move into my new office. We were supposed to be meeting Natalie tonight for dinner, so Spencer decided to skip on the movie outing in order to finish some overdue work in time.  
"How’s the office-move going, Ash?” I smiled around a mouthful of candy Alex had offered me, giving Kyla a thumbs-up to tell her that everything has been going according to plan.  
The girls smiled enthusiastically "Great, when can we start lifting things and feeling helpful?” Dawn said as Kyla rubbed her hands together in a show of strength.  
“Very soon, so you girls better start training those muscles.” I smiled, loving how familiar this all seemed and knowing that come the time, they were both going to start complaining non-stop about not wanting to do anymore moving.   
"Leelee." I looked down at Alex, finding her nose scrunched in adorable confusion and her eyebrows furrowed in thought. I stared at her, waiting for her to process whatever was running through her head. "How'd you know you were a lesbian?"  
What little self-control I had in me not to choke, I suppose both Kyla and Dawn did not have by the sound of their slight coughing. I always found it weird how children uttering words that we would always deem them too young to know sounds dirty, even if it isn’t in actuality. I looked around, walking towards a bench before sitting down as Kyla and Dawn hovered around. "Why do you want to know, sweetie?"  
She looked at me, and I was awe-struck by the complete ease and open curiosity I saw on her face, and it made me smile lovingly at her "Well, how do I know if I'm a lesbian?"  
I took her hand, patting the seat next to me. She sat to my left and when looked up at Kyla I saw a familiar smile dancing on her lips. She was remembering when we had a similar conversation to this one a long time ago.  
I reached, smoothing Alex's hair out of her eyes "First of all, you should know that there isn't any rule saying you should be." I turned around, facing her as I folded one of my legs underneath me. "I just happened to fall in love with a girl."  
She grinned. "With Spencer?"  
I laughed lightly, my fingers running still through her locks "Yes, with Spencer." I felt a little finger poke my side, and looked up at Dawn’s smirking features, never missing a chance to rub it in.   
I looked back at Alex. "Sweetheart, some girls like guys, others like girls, some guys like guys. There's no rule. You fall for whoever you fall for." She nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer, and I made a mental note to discuss this further with her later.  
"Kyla?" Someone called from behind and we turned around, finding a tall figure marching towards us. Kyla got up, giving the guy a quick hug. "How have you been, Aiden?"  
I fought the inward huff that came upon seeing him. What was this? The week of cringe-worthy reunions with every one of Spencer’s past and present love interests?   
I turned my body to the left, hoping I could forestall or just avoid having to speak to him. I knew it was silly and probably childish of me to be acting this way, but in all honesty, I was only being honest to myself. I had absolutely no interest in talking to him, the only thing that ever linked us together was my imaginary rivalry to him in my head to have Spencer all to myself, even if it were a rivalry he wasn’t even privy to.   
I heard them talk about Boston and I figured that's where he's residing. I sat there, happily tuning him out, and looking around until Alex tugged at my hand and pulled me to stand near Kyla. He averted his eyes our way, landing quickly on me before his face contorted in what I assumed was surprise. "Ashley?"  
I smiled, probably coming out as nothing but a straight line, giving him a curt hello. "Yep." Kyla said cheerfully, bouncing on the balls of her feet and I decided that I was going to keep relishing in the excitement she was portraying at my being back for as long as it lasted. "She got back a couple of months ago. Happily married now." I was happy to be spoken for, for once.   
"Congratulations." I think he was about to pat my shoulder, but quickly retracted his hand. I grinned inwardly, not at the sentiment, but that he did remember me quite well after all. "Who's the lucky chap?"  
I raised an eyebrow, feeling Dawn coming behind me before her arm draped around my shoulders. I looked back, sharing a smile with her. Chap? Did they move Boston to England? “Well Spencer of course, who else?” I allowed myself to chuckle, finding that I couldn't have said it better myself.  
"Oh” He looked at me, then back at Kyla, and I got the distinct impression that he was waiting for either of us to crack a tooth and say this was all an elaborative joke. “Yes, well, it was nice seeing you both." He leaned in, giving Kyla a hug, offering me a tight smile and another ‘congratulations’ before scurrying off.   
I chuckled, shaking my head at his appearance and how he always felt like a food allergy, the kind of thing that was in itself harmless but for some reason your body was never able to digest.   
"I don't like him." I looked down at Alex, finding her staring at his retreating form. “Well, that's one way to know if you're a lesbian.”  
“Huh?” she looked at me, her head tilted in question and I chuckled to myself, shaking my head at her to tell her it was nothing she needed to worry about.   
xxxxxxx  
I stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing my appearance. I came home to find a white dress having been pulled out of my wardrobe and laid on my bed awaiting my arrival. Spencer had apparently been through my closet and decided to lay out for me what she wanted me to wear tonight.  
I decided to go with what she had chosen, seeing as I didn’t really know where we were heading and what the dress code entailed. Another tiny (but in reality, quite huge) part of me, the one that was still smiling, seemed to like the intimacy of her going through my clothes and the thought that for a few minutes, the image of me dressed in whatever was to her liking was the sole thing scurrying through her head.   
I stared at the roman dress, watching as it gripped tightly to my ribcage with a silver band before it flowed down, stopping scarcely at my knees. I begrudgingly stared at the pair of black stilettoes adorning my feet, wincing in advance at the pain I was going to feel at the end of the night. “I know, guys, I’m sorry” I uttered a small apology to my feet, knowing they were quite flat and never liked to go through the ritual hardships that was womanly seduction.   
I reached up, tucking my flowing hair away from my shoulder as a knock came upon my bedroom door before I heard it open. I turned around, the first thing catching my attention was the sight of an ankle crossing the threshold of my door and a stopping there. “Are you decent? ‘Cause if you’re not, then I’d love to come in”  
I chuckled, turning around fully to face the door. “I’m decent, but if you’d give me a couple of minutes I could arrange for otherwise.”   
A head of gold peeked through the door, not really bashfully, only taking its time to make a confident appearance. She gave the door a gentle push, letting it click shut quietly as she stood in front of it. She looked taller as she stood straight with her hands behind her back, her dress standing in full view. In contrast to my white flowing one, her black dress clung to every inch of her body, curling in little wavy motions at her hips and I found myself wanting to reach out and feel the texture of it.   
She took a few steps in, coming to a stop in front of me before she reached up to idly toy with the metal clasp holding my shoulder strap together “I knew I’d feel lucky walking in there with you on my arm tonight, but now I’m wondering how I’m going to manage to keep all eyes away from you.”   
I felt my lips lift up at her remark, reaching up with one of my hands to mirror her movement, the back of my fingers squirting delicately against her skin before slipping under her shoulder strap, carefully adjusting it even though it needed no adjustments. “With you looking like that, I don’t believe that’s going to be such a big ordeal.”   
She smiles, and for the first time since she’s stepped into the room, her demeanour falters a little bit as she takes a tiny step back, her hand coming forth from behind her back to present me with a square navy cashmere-covered box.   
I reach forward and take it from her grasp, holding it in my hands but not opening it as I chance a look up at her. “Quite a few surprises behind your back lately” I say with a little smile, trying to make her relax her stance again. I open the box to find a simple brown but beautiful oval gem hanging to a thin equally brown thread.   
She smiles again, a little more at ease as she walks towards my dresser, leaning her back against it. “I believe this was year two gift.”   
I reach forward, taking the necklace from its resting place, letting it dangle from my fingers as I look at her. “Year two gift?”  
“Your birthday gifts.” She takes in a deep breath, her head tilting but hanging low as she looks at me through long lashes. “I got you a birthday gift every year when you were away.”  
“And what if you had never gotten the chance to give them to me” I ask her, my mind racing a mile a minute, not even daring to stop at the implication of what she’s saying, and there are three other gifts awaiting me.  
She shrugs gently, and I could swear that my heart followed the gentle and slow pattern of her shoulders hosting up and then falling down only for my heart to land into my stomach. “You know” she says with a long breath, a perfect smile etching itself upon her features. And I take a silent minute, tuning everything out to debate the adjective I’ve just dotted upon her smile, only to find that I couldn’t dote it with anything else, it was perfect. “That thought never crossed my mind. I always knew I’d see you again and get the chance to give them to you.”  
Of course she would’ve seen me again, chances were slim that we would never see each other again. But I never dared believe that chances would go as far as her getting to give me four years’ worth of gifts.   
“May I?” And once again I wasn’t sure how she managed to move so swiftly, to be standing right in front of me and for her fingers to be gripping the other end of the thread, asking me for a gentle permission to put it on me.   
And I let myself wonder this time if it was because my senses were so in tune with her, that she was just such an integral part of me that I never knew where she would end and I would begin, or if it was because I always tried my hardest to tune her out that I never could register her movements.   
And for another once tonight, I let myself admit that it didn’t matter, and that it all came down to the same thing. I nod, turning around as my hands go up to pull my hair over my left shoulder. “Please.”  
I felt her fingers trail down my spine, stopping at the edge of where my dress met my skin at mid-back before retreating. “I thought it would bring out your eyes beautifully.”  
I let my fingers trail down my chest, caressing the gem resting against my sternum before I turn around to face Spencer, reaching up to boldly cup her cheek “You know, I forgot a lot of things when I was away, but I never forgot the shade of your eyes.”   
I felt her skin move to make way for dimple as her mouth curled in a smile and I moved my hand back to allow one finger to gently dip into the gentle crevice at her cheek. She reaches up, linking her fingers through mine. “Shall we?”  
Xxxxxxxxx  
The receptionist took our light shawls seeing as it was only late September and the air was still quite warm. Another came forth ushering us to our tables, and I found my hand being taken again by Spencer, as she linked our fingers again walking in front of me to follow our usher.   
Natalie was already there, sat comfortably sipping on what looked like a martini and she got up as we appeared in what I assumed was a courtesy welcoming to Spencer, most of all, seeing as her eyes never left her.   
Spencer walked around the table to give Natalie a hug as the waiter pulled out a chair for her, and she gave him a curt nod of her head, telling him all was fine as she walked around to pull my chair out for me, waiting until I was comfortably sat before taking the seat that was adjacent to mine.  
“So how are you two newlyweds doing?”   
Spencer gave Natalie a curt smile before she gave the waiter another, telling him we were finely situated. “We’re fine, everything has been going great.”  
“And how was the honeymoon?” I sat quickly as I felt the fires of this banter starting to brew, not particularly bothered to come up with an answer to any of the ongoing questions as I felt Spencer’s hand come to rest upon my thigh. I wasn’t sure why she did rest her hand on my thigh, but somehow, it managed to keep me well out-tuned of the conversation as a waiter came to ask if we wanted to drink anything and I only chanced a quick glance towards Spencer as I ordered us two glasses of white wine.  
“We didn’t really get to have one with everything going on, but I was planning on arranging something nice and island-y soon” I turned my head to find Spencer smiling at me. “Well, if Ashley would like that, seeing as she’s just got back.”   
I turned my head to look at Spencer when I felt two pairs of eyes staring at me, and I cleared my throat, smiling. “Nice and island-y sounds nice to me” She nodded, mirroring my smile before her hand left my thigh under the table to come up and rest on my hand that was on the table. “Well I thought Christmas first, but then it’d be a shame not to spend the holidays with the family this year”  
“Where is it that you were, Ashley?” I averted my eyes to Natalie, keeping my face turned towards Spencer as one of her fingers traced the curve between my thumb and index finger. “France. Finishing my degree.”   
I watched Natalie reach for her glass in my peripheral vision, stirring the olive at the bottom of it before lifting it to her lips, pausing before speaking again. “Well this was certainly a hasty and sudden development” She took a long drink before setting her glass back down in its exact place. “Seeing as you’ve just been back.” She punctuated, using Spencer’s words.   
I caught Spencer’s eyes, not able to hold them for long as they seemed to be thoroughly mapping my face before they slowly dipped down to trace my jawline, I could only assume by the tingle I felt accompanying their path, before it followed it down the my neck to my shoulders. I wanted to find something there, to know, what she planning, what I should say, but I found nothing except a pair of eyes insistent on prodding my skin quite intimately.   
“What is?” I finally turned my head to face Natalie, allowing her my attention. I knew what she was referring to. She smiled, lopsidedly, and I noticed it was equally charming and intimidating “Your marriage, obviously. Coincidentally sudden and arranging.”   
“Well” I chuckled inwardly, as Spencer decided to jump in, coincidentally and arranging at this moment. “We’ve known each other for quite forever really, taking things to the next level just seemed like the natural thing to do.”  
I watched a similar smile form on Spencer’s face, charming alike and intimidating and it was a smile I had never seen on her before. Natalie’s smile grew even bigger, to the point she was grinning. She was loving this new air that blew in and I found myself hating it in respect. She nodded, as if signalling defeat, before gracefully standing up. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom. Spencer, if you’d please order me my usual.”   
I felt my eyes roll discreetly at the last cut-rate remark, as I reached for my glass of wine, taking a small sip before placing it down and sighing. “What are you doing?” I turned around, only to find Spencer with her elbow resting on the table, her palm hoisting her head as she was back to staring at me distractedly “Spencer” I said her name in gentle exasperation. “If you’re trying to sound convincing, your ill-timed constant quips are hardly doing that.”   
“I wouldn’t mind you taking the reins if you wanted to.” She tilted her head, her eyes now holding mine.  
“I just don’t understand why we need to do it, she clearly doesn’t believe it for a second.” I frowned as her fingers linked through mine, Natalie not being around for her to need the physical assurance.  
“Because she is not above making trouble.” I huffed out a laugh at that, staring blankly at Spencer.  
“Well she sure sounds lovely.” I watched as Spencer gently shrugged, this one, my heart not following. She reached for her glass of wine with her free hand, bringing it to her lips before taking a hefty drink.   
“She’s not, really” I laughed a little disbelievingly at her answer, shaking my head in a mixture of bewilderment and amusement. “Now that’s a lovely sentiment on your behalf regarding your ex-lover.”   
She shrugs again, chuckling, only hers was in true amusement. “Well she is what she is.”  
“That, I understand” I nodded, because I did, people are what they are. “What I don’t understand is why you were with her then?”  
Natalie arrives back at the table, her chair giving a gentle rattle as she pushes it back before sliding back in it. “Have we ordered?”  
I give her a smile, my fingers lacing fully through Spencer’s. “No sorry, we got a bit distracted.”  
“Of course” She smiles back at me, tight-lipped before she gently raises her hand, calling a waiter to the table.  
xxxxxxx  
I sat at the end of the bed, my bare back facing the moonlit window. I bent my knees, trapping the covers between the, and my outstretched arms, only enough to cover my naked torso.  
I linked my hands together, raising them in the air until I could see a turtledove figure on her bare back. The covers hung around her waist, as the porcelain skin of her back tracked up for what seemed to be an eternity of miles.  
My turtledove took flight where the blanket took landing, right where it dangerously-concealed the edge of her backside It flew up, stopping to flap its wings over her slightly dipping lower back, taking off further up, teasing her sides with the tips of its wings as it reached her mid-back where it stopped.   
She was just gorgeous, and it always felt soothing to look at her. I felt a sense of security, a sense of belonging, in knowing that I could sit and stare. That I could.   
I tracked my eyes down the mass of wavy brown curl, past her shoulders where a few locks sprawled here and there. My eyes traveled down her back, reveling in how perfect her skin is. I stopped at the slightly alien scar interrupting the flow of perfection and I couldn’t stop from reveling from how perfect it made her look.  
I didn't know much about Sophie's past. Her parents died in a car crash when she was a child. And maybe that was one more reason I was so attached to her. I could always see so much of Kyla’s feistiness and softness in her. She had been living at her family house where she was raised by her grandparents, and who left the house to her after they too passed away not too long ago, working part-time as a waitress for a few years now and putting herself through school.   
"Come to bed, creeper." Her voice sounded heavy with sleep and hoarse with tenderness.  
I watched my turtledove dissolve and a two 5 fingers figure appear instead of it on her back, as my arms came to rest flat on my knees.  
"I'm enjoying the view." And I was. My eyes couldn't feast enough on her, my hands couldn't stop touching her. If only I could get my thoughts to focus on her. It was as if my body is constantly trying to make up for my mental betrayal.  
I wanted to keep her happy so much, but it was dragging me down into a bottomless pit. I was supposed to fill the void, only this did nothing but remind me of it.   
"Well the view is freezing." She patted the mattress searching for the edge of the sheets to pull up her bare body. I reached forward, nudging her fingers with my toes. "Don't hide the view."  
"Then come keep me warm." She cracked an eye open, looking straight ahead, but I knew she was looking at me somehow. She was always looking at me, for me, and out for me. And I only had eyes for another. "Aren't you sleepy? It's 4 in the morning."  
I sighed, and even then hoped my breath would warm her. It was as if I was always on the verge of sobbing when I was around her. Because if with her felt so alone, then the outside world just terrified me to no end.  
We would never feel anything but alone, no matter who we were with, no matter how much we loved that person, how crazy in love we were with them. That was all we'll ever be; with them. You will never be the other person. You will never be similar. You will never truly become one. You will always be alone.  
"Almost…" I shook my head, chuckling at my own vagueness. I was always an almost. They say the saddest word in the world is almost. Almost happy, almost healthy, almost alive, almost in love. It stretches across the world and highlights the disappointment in a sigh; murmurs the sound of breaking so that it's almost bearable. It leaves you with a dissolving spine instead of a snapping one; gentle tears instead of a torrent.  
Almost. Nearly. Close. Just about.  
It's the words without the meaning, the action without the spirit. It's crossing your heart with crossed fingers and hoping to die with a crossed tongue. It's wrestling the truth on your lips and almost winning.   
It's almost convincing myself I don't love her, almost convincing myself life will still be beautiful when I rip her out of it.  
Almost sleeping dreamless nights. Almost waking with steady palms  
It's almost reclaiming my spine from her almost loving hands and almost not crying when my memory trips on her name. It's almost feeling whole and almost persuading myself this is for the best. It's almost knowing why the hell I'm doing this and almost disregarding the secondhand bruise.   
It's almost putting the car in park and almost running back as fast as I can. It's almost choosing to almost die with her rather than almost live without.  
It's the saddest word in the world and the most profound echo when it's done. It's the emptiness I'll sing for the rest of my life, the vacancy I'll write every night when I'm not almost, but completely and totally alone.  
I felt a hand cup my cheek and raised my sight to concerned ones. The white of the moonlight dubbed her emerald with a somber shine. "Where'd you go there?"  
I smiled, placing my hand over hers on my face. "I think I fell asleep for a second there." I chuckled for good measure before crawling to the head of the bed." Come on, let's get you warm and comfy, baby."   
"Where is it that you always go to?"  
I stopped my tidying of the sheets to a more sleep-able area and turned to look at her. She was sitting where I was only a minute ago, with the sheets wrapped tightly and securely around her frame. I could sense her unease and perplexity by the way she tried to hide herself behind the sheets. Maybe she thought her vulnerability was more apparent through her bare figure.  
But I always saw it. I always saw how I hurt her.   
I shook my head, not in answer but in lack of one.  
"You go back to her." She was looking away at the far wall, but there was no discovery in her eyes, no new realization; there was old raw acceptance.  
I wanted to argue with her, tell her she was wrong, that I didn't go anywhere, to give her some excuse, say that I have a short attention span and expect her to believe it after knowing me for 2 years. I wanted to play dumb, but I wouldn't throw something like that her way. I always thought playing dumb was just pure offensive, a clear underestimation to the other person's intelligence.  
So I did what I do best, and sighed. I sighed and I swallowed the heavy bile silencing me. And just as one vile liquid went down, the other came up, and I felt my flow of tears arise.  
"I'm sorry" I shook my head, willing my words not to come out again, hoping she hadn't heard them the first time. I shook my head to try and stop them from making another appearance. Because if I say them, then it all becomes too real, and the scratches reality draws along the path almost always turn into wounds.  
I felt my breath coming in heaves, as my torrent came replacing the sandstorm that's been eating away at my atmosphere for so long.  
I dared not reach up to wipe my tears, I daren't move my hand from its place on my chest. It felt like the only thing that was keeping my heart from breaking out of said chest at the speed of its racing beats. "I'm so sorry" Sobs were wrecking my body, closing their fingers round my throat and squeezing.   
I looked up when I felt a tug at my face, and found Sophie kneeling in front of me. She wiped my face with her thumbs, her hands carefully cradling it.  
"Arrête, je t'en supplie." She tucked my hair behind my ears, leaned in and kissed my forehead lovingly while softly whispering against it for me to calm down. "I always knew your heart belonged to another" She kissed my forehead again, and again. "I knew it since day one."  
I frowned at the memory, closing my drying eyes. There are those little fragments of moments, when the quiet takes over. And you find yourself having to breathe in hard, so much the atmosphere is thick. You're not crying, but you wish you were, because you don't know what else would express the sorrow this deafening quiet brings.  
"Then why go through this?"  
I felt the quiet of my thoughts trying to take over again, at the heavy implications of this 'this'. Bizarre it seems how we just brief everything up, this and that and it, just placing things in little packages and taking it all in like we've just been told the time.  
She smiled, and I frowned more. "Because you're interesting." She chuckled, before her lips settled into a bittersweet smile. "Alluring, to the point of addicting." She let go of my face, placing her hands in her lap. "But I guess so is Spencer."   
And Spencer was. She was the drug, and its rehab. The disease, and its antidote. The breath, and its exhale. The beginning to which I found no end.  
And Sophie was the interval between beginning and end. The settlement but not the answer. The logic but not the truth.   
I searched her eyes, looking for something that would make me feel better; anger, hate, betrayal… but I found only love. I opened my mouth but before I could speak her fingers silenced my lips.   
"Don't, Ashley. Don't apologize. You wanted to be with me. And while that lasted, it was enough for me to know that somehow in return of all the great things you gave me, I gave you something in return." She cupped my cheek, her eyes studying my face like a pupil trying to take in the most of his notes before his exam, trying to submit as much as he could to memory. "But it's not enough anymore, is it?"  
I bite my lip, looking down "Rhetoric questions are always the hardest to answer."  
She laughed, genuinely, tucking my already tucked back hair. "Because how can you answer them when the answer's already there, right?"  
And that was enough to honor the bond we had, this underlying, unhinged understanding that was the base of this relationship.  
She moved close to the edge of the bed, bent down and retrieved two oversized t-shirts, slipping one on and handing me the other.  
She got under the covers, turning back to look at me. "Come snuggle me, friend."   
xxxxxxxx

xxxxxxx

"Are you making this sleeping here thing a habit?"  
"Well…." She said hoarsely, as her head came to rest on my shoulder after she comfortably situated herself under my blankets. "Technically, this is my bed."  
I huffed playfully "Technicalities." I tried to mockingly get up, only to find her already playing along and holding me down by her arm.  
"The couches are also mine." I tugged at her arm, not too hard though because I was too lazy to play along and actually get up in case she let go. "The floors are also mine, so are the bathtubs and even the front porch."  
I slummed back down, feigning surrender. "How about my personal space?"  
"Mine too." She settled in again, rubbing her nose against my neck and I figured she was actually fighting an itch as she searched for the perfect spot for her head to rest on. I shivered, trying hard not to breathe in too hard too suddenly.  
"A restraining order, that's gunna be yours next too." I tilted my neck making room for her, as I felt her arm struggle to snake around it. "Comfy?"  
She made a "mhmm" sound, rubbing her nose against my neck again. I think the itch had gone and that she did that last one on purpose. My neck had been the recipient of plenty try-to-persuade-her moments throughout the years.   
"We saw broody today." I huffed the sentence out, rolling my eyes to myself. I felt her chuckle, before I heard the sweet sound of her laughter. "And I see you still hate him just as intensely."  
I made a fake shuddering motion, and she laughed harder. "Why do you hate him so much?"  
I raised my head, finding her looking at me curiously. "Because he's an idiot. And I don’t hate him. Only an intense dislike"  
She raised her eyebrow, looking at me disbelievingly. "And you came to that conclusion how? You've barely spoken to him throughout I can’t remember how many years"  
I opened my mouth, ready for a snarky comeback on how broody has not enough brain functions to speak, but she cut me off. "Snide comments about his hair do not count."  
I giggled, remembering his hairdo. I might've been a little mean to him, but he was truly an idiot. And idiots are not people too, years of psychology classes have not made me budge on that tiny racist part of me yet. But then again, he was only a young pubescent boy back then.   
I looked at her, still staring at me, and I realised she was still waiting for my answer. But in the back of my mind I knew she must’ve known it always came down to how jealous I was of him for being with her, as unspoken as it was between us. There was that familiar glint in her eyes, the one that always told me she'd be expecting a precise answer from me. I hated that glint. I loved how beautiful it looked, but I always hated how it'd disappear as soon as I answered. "Because he was never good enough."  
She frowned her fingers wiggling to fit in the space between my shoulder and neck, underneath my shirt, and I could still see her eyes sparkling this time. "Good enough for what?"  
"Good enough to hold your hand."  
She smiled, resting her head back on my shoulder, and I wished she had looked at me for a second longer, only so I'd see if that sparkle persisted this time.  
I breathed in the silence a few seconds, relishing in feelings I never thought I'd relive again. I ran my finger on her arm, over the crease of shirt and down the back of her hand running over her knuckles and then back up again.  
"When did you know you were gay?"  
I wanted to say the first time I laid my eyes on you but I thought my work on keeping that sparkle in her eyes was enough labour for me for one night. "First time my heart broke."   
"Who would be so stupid to break your heart?" There was a strange tint of sadness coating her voice, a tiny stain that sounded strangely apologetic. A part of me knew we were both addressing the same sad matter. But I couldn’t go ahead and tackle it. Because, sometimes no matter how glorious the truth is, how much you might long for it, it still scares you. You might have no reason at all to be scared, and sometimes that no reason at all might represent every damn reason there is.  
"I didn't say someone broke my heart, I just said my heart broke." I knew that made little sense, even to my own ears. I was comforting her, without allowing myself to believe she had actually been apologizing for my broken heart. Because she's Spencer, and when I blink, it's her eyes I see.  
"That doesn't make sense, Ashley." She lay unmoving on top of me. Even her fingers which were wrapped around my neck now lay open and taut. "If it broke, then someone must've broke it.”  
Did she want me to blame her? Did she want me to not make up excuses and blame her? I was able to, but in all fairness I was just as much to blame for my predicament as anyone else. I stopped as I felt a twinge of all the pent up bitterness settle in again, and wondered if I was only making up excuses for her because my head was too caught up in the sensation of her body next to mine. But I dismissed that thought upon hearing her tormented sigh.  
"Sometimes" Sometimes, almost all time, all I want to just pull you into me and get lost in the feel of you. "Sometimes, you love someone, but you don't, cant, want them."  
My voice sounded strange to me, and I didn't know if it was me who said that or Spencer. I didn't know if I was making up an excuse for her little escape or mine. But what I did know was that whoever had said it, had me convinced.   
"How can you love someone and not want them so much to that you break walls and doors down for them?" She breathed in, and sunk back into me. "How can you love someone who broke your heart?"  
I pondered on what I had said, sensing it didn't ring as plausible to her as it did in my head. I always thought that if you wanted something, really wanted it, you'd go to the ends of the earth to get it. But maybe sometimes, we're just not fully equipped for the things you want just yet.  
"It's like being on a diet." I said, tapping my finger on her stiff hand. "You love chocolate, you might even want it, but you know it's not good for you at the time being."  
She turned around, climbing further up to face me. I immediately looked past her, a habit I had acquired over the years. I guessed if I found it hard enough to lie with words, then my eyes would definitely not be my accomplices.  
"But chocolate is just addictive." I felt her lips graze my cheek as she spoke, her breath sending me into euphoria as it bathed my skin. "It's sweet, even delicious to eyes, to every one of your senses. It has even been proven that chocolate makes you happy."  
I didn't dare catch her eyes still, but I couldn't stop myself from looking at her as she spoke. I alternated my vision from travelling past her cheeks, to her delectable lips, her jaw line, down her tempting collarbone and then back up again.  
She reached up, smoothing my eyebrow with her index finger, running it softly against my temple then down to settle against my pulse point as if checking for my heart beat.  
Her voice dropped a few notches still, becoming barely audible. "You soon grow up, to find out that even though chocolate might not be the healthiest way to achieve your happiness, but it does the trick like no other."  
She trailed her hand down my shoulder, side and stopping at my lower waist right beneath my shirt, and squeezed gently. Goosebumps. "Side effect of chocolate might be fuller hips, but I've always liked my girls that way."  
"I knew I liked girls when I realised they were better at holding hands." She hoisted herself up on her elbow, and although I couldn’t see but the silhouette of her face in the dark, I knew she was staring at me “It didn’t matter what she was like, Natalie, it just didn’t matter. The lines were clear to me, it was casual and never beyond that, and she had just enough wit and maybe a bit of spite in her to keep me amused.”   
I frowned at that, my eyes trying to accommodate themselves to the dark enough for me to decipher what she must look like right now. I didn’t like the sound of what she said, nor the memory of that smile that she had on her face tonight at the restaurant, and I wondered how much of her I didn’t know. “I know it sounds a bit horrible, and I don’t exactly come out of that admission looking bright, but sometimes we just need horrible things to set us back on track.”   
I nodded, shaking the little hazy judgements from my mind, because I too had done horrible things to set myself back on track. And I thought it was about time I took Spencer off her pedestal so I could see her with clearer eyes, ones that weren’t blinded by all the love I felt for her. “Was she good at holding your hand?”  
“We never held hands.” She leaned down placing a kiss dangerously close to my lips before her head came back to rest upon my shoulder. “Goodnight, Ashley.”


	15. Two roads diverged

Continuity. I’m not particularly sure what that word means. But I am almost certain that I do not like it. Almost as certain as I am of how much I dislike dictionaries.   
On second thought, I have seldom, if ever, used one. Which strikes me as strange because I am quite aware that I am rather adept at words in a multitude of languages, and how is it that one manages to grasp the correct meaning of words, of things, without a definite guideline when our perception of said things is almost always faulty with emotions.   
Maybe because words are in actuality palpable. Actions do not speak louder than words. I am a firm believer of that tangent. It is only those who fear words that want to listen to actions.   
Albeit, there is much to fear in them, and sometimes in their absence.   
Continuity. I am certain there is much to dislike there. Be it as it may, and as there already is too much dislike floating around, I shall add unceremoniously to it by referring myself to a dictionary.   
Continuity: “the unbroken and consistent existence or operation of something over time.” Yes, I had an inkling that was what it meant. I also heard it’s an important and fundamental part of everyone’s lives.   
And as I step out of my door, walking down my house’s driveway, I stop at the second house to the left, peaking through and pouting to myself that the door was closed and I would not get to pet my neighbors’ black Labrador Junior before heading out this morning.  
I walk down the repetitive scenic route, that although 7 minutes longer I’ve long come to realise, gives me a slightly more pleasant morning stroll, and that I take every day on my way to the metro station. I pass by the blonde homeless man that I’ve been seeing every day for the last 4 years, and that somehow has not seemed to have gotten any older, I take a cigarette out of my pack and hand it to him, as I have very much done over the course of these years. He, yet again, tries to hassle me for another one, but, much as I have learned that the hassle will not end at a second one, I shake my head with a smile, and he smiles back, scurrying off.   
I walk the few meters forward, and stop next to the dark haired homeless man who is as always perched on a corner stone in front of the little unnecessary placed tunnel archway that leads to the metro, and he, again this morning, asks me for ten cents, but I take out another cigarette out of my pack and give it to him, much like I have done every day for the last 4 years ever since I heard him ask the passer-by in front of me once for one. He for some reason still insists on asking me for those ten cents.   
I stop midway through my stroll through the unnecessary tunnel, to listen, for about 8 seconds to another homeless man, this one, with his long braided hair and striking features, reminding me of someone from a Cherokee tribe I must’ve seen in a movie one time, as he strums an out of tune rhythm while he sings a botched version of “Hey Jude” and messing up most of the lyrics. I smile at him, and he smiles back.   
Continuity. Maybe I should look in another dictionary.   
And as I sit sipping on my fourth cup of coffee for the day, I look up as the waitress walks closer, placing a chocolate muffin on my table and smiling, again, like she’s done for the last 3 months. “On the house” she says, before stuffing her fingers in the pockets at the front of her apron.   
I raise a playful eyebrow, giving her a once over before closing my book and resting it on the table. “Is it your break yet, ‘cause I was hoping you would join me for a coffee, miss.”   
“It’s not, but it’s coming up soon.” She says, tilting her head and giving me an appraising look. I smile, reaching for the napkin she’s placed next to the muffin, and flipping it over. “What? No number? I thought this kind of thing led to the waitress writing her number on the back of the napkin”   
She chuckles, reaching around her waist to untie the apron before folding it on the back of the seat. I pout, scrunching my nose before looking up at her. “I thought you looked sexy in that apron”   
“I think I’m calling for a break right now.” She pulls the chair facing mine before taking a seat. “And I thought you already had my number, probably on speed dial too.”   
I frown, tilting my head to the left and cracking my neck habitually, before looking at her with an apologetic look. She hates it when I do that. “Do phones even have speed dial anymore?”   
“I don’t know, maybe?” She reaches for my muffin, taking out a piece and slipping it into her mouth, gently sucking on her fingers in thought. “It used to be such a dilemma trying to figure out who to put as which.”   
“You popular thing, you.” I reach for the muffin, taking out a piece from the spot she’s mutilated before slipping it into my mouth. “Although, who could resist you in that apron.”   
“You know, Ash, your creepy customer routine is starting to turn really creepy” She wiggles her finger in front of my face before turning around and making a few gestures with her hand towards the barista, asking him for a cup of coffee for herself.   
“I can’t help it with you waltzing around smelling of freshly brewed coffee and looking all dishevelled.” I shrug innocently, leaning back in my chair.”   
“And those fetishes of yours, so creepy” She chuckles again, reaching up to smooth her fingers through her pulled back hair, making it even messier in the process. “And I look exhausted, not dishevelled.”   
I reach forward, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ears, and she smiles softly at the gesture. “You do, and I still think you should take a few days off, at least until you’ve finished your exams”   
“No, it’s fine, I can manage, and besides, I can’t, we’re still short on staff.” She reaches up, catching my fingers before lowering them on the table, keeping them in her hold. “You though, have finished exams and don’t need to come here daily in academic mode and with books.”   
“I like it here, you’re here, and besides, I’m just being vigilant, what if I have to retake anything?” I look up as the barista comes over to the table, delivering her drink and eyeing our joined hands. I catch his eyes, raising my eyebrow until he looks away sheepishly and walks off. “And your staff are such creepers, need to keep an eye on you.”   
“Says the creeper herself. And I can look after myself. Besides, we are no longer together and you are thus exhumed from protective girlfriend duty” She pats my hand before extracting hers to nurse her cup. “And you won’t need to retake anything, we both know you’ve aced your exams, Ashley. It’s summer break, you should go enjoy yourself”   
“But I’m not exhumed from protective friend duty, Soph. Have to look after my favorite girl” I turn around, sending a dirty glare at the barista, whose name I never seem to remember. I feel a swat collide with my shoulder before a chiding voice comes my way. “Ashley, stop doing that. You’re just fuelling his imagination and making my shifts harder”   
I smile playfully, turning back to look at her. “But it’s so much fun watching him squirm.”   
She shakes her head, lifting the cup up, blowing shortly over the hot liquid before taking a hefty drink. She lowers it down, staring at it for a few silent seconds, and I wait for her, because I know that shift in her look. “Have you made arrangements to go back home yet?”  
“Home? Who says I want to go back home?” I straighten in my seat, because some questions demand you straighten up for them, because some answers you can’t give while leaning back comfortably in your chair, and other answers you can’t even give while sitting with your best poise in your chair.  
I watch her breath in deeply, her eyes leaving the mug completely as they settle steadily on me. “Ashley” she says in a controlled voice, taking in another breathe as her lips open once before closing again, clearly deciding against whatever she wanted to say. “Then what do you want to do now that you’ve graduated?”  
I shrug, because I really didn’t know. Strides. Slow strides. “I don’t know. I mean, what everyone else who’s graduated wants to do, I suppose. Get a job, do something will all those sleepless nights studying.”   
“Then go home and get a job, do something about all those sleepless nights” Her tone made it clear that we were speaking about two very different kinds of sleepless nights.   
It was my turn to shake my head, fingering the lid of my cup. “This is home, Sophie. This has been my home for the last four years.”   
I didn’t need to look up to see her head mirror mine. “No it hasn’t, this isn’t your home, Ashley, because you have done nothing to make it your home. You don’t want to be here, there’s nothing for you here, sweetie.”   
“How can you say that? What about you? I have you here, you’re my girl, my favourite girl.” I looked up at her, hurt evident in my voice and eyes, because I was hurt, because she’s been pushing me to have this conversation for weeks now, months, and I wanted to cling to her and this semblance of continuity I’ve established for myself here. Home. Dog. Walk. Homeless men. Metro. Coffee shop. Banter with the cute waitress. Making the barista squirm. Metro. Homeless men. Walk. Dog. Home. Continuity.   
“I can’t be everything you need, Ashley. I’d love to be, I would’ve wanted to be, but I’m not.” I felt two hands cupping my own, and the tenderness in her voice was urging me to look at her. “You’ve got other favourite girls at home, who can be what you need and I’m not just talking about Spencer. That twitch in your hand, it’s you talking about Spencer in your head.” I pull my hand back from her grasp, and she follows it forcefully yanking it back in her direction abruptly. “I just said her name, I will say her name, and we will say her name. You can try and fool everyone by pretending, you can even fool yourself if you want, if that’s what it takes to make you feel better but I will not stand around and do this eggshell waltz with you when this eggshell waltz you’ve been doing your whole life around the things you love is what’s gotten you into this broken mess in the first place.”  
“You’re going to pick up those pieces, strip down of your ego, go back home and do something, anything.” She held my eyes for a long moment, and I felt it, the word, palpably, her hold. “And I’m coming to visit soon, ‘cause man do I need a vacation.”   
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
I watched the lithe fingers slip through the hollow of the opening, threading softly through a golden mane as the lump figure at their receiving end gave out a long and winded sigh. Why is it that dogs are always so unusually tired? But then again, it must take extraordinary amounts of energy to maintain that much exuberance and enthusiasm all day, oh and love, must not forget the puppy love. I try and do it that one or two times a year, usually around my birthday and Christmas, because it is only customary to shower people around you with love when they are doing the same around special occasions, no matter how awkward it makes you feel, that is, because you are a socially and emotionally awkward person, and it usually leaves me feeling tired for a handful of days.  
This one puppy though, has earned this long and winded sigh. I reach forward, my hand mimicking the trail of the other much more lithe one, and threading through the fur on the other side of Diego’s fluffy head. “He really doesn’t like the cone” Spencer says to me in a small and sad voice.   
I smile softly up at her, curling my fingers around a floppy ear and giving its back crevice a thorough and slow scratch. “I wouldn’t either if my list of top five hobbies involved some sort of biting, licking or chasing to inappropriate parts of my lower body.”   
She chuckles, her shoulder coming to gently nudge mine playfully “Maybe we should get you one to keep your upper body from smoking” Her head tilts as if she’s truly considering the option before she scrunches up her nose with a gentle disapproving hum “It might be a little counter-productive though” She reaches up with her free hand, trying to reach around an imaginary cone for her head to puff on an imaginary cigarette.   
“What with the mobility hindrance, that is?” I watch her with clear amusement, laughing softly at her carefree goofiness. “That should potentially work more effectively than the patch, and definitely funnier to witness.”  
She settles down from her antics, her attention shifting to a dozing Diego instead and she runs her pointer down the bride of his nose for a few times in a gentle scratch before her hand changes course to rest on top of mine where it still nestled into his fur “And what with the snuggling hindrance, that is.”   
“But I don’t smoke in my sleep” I find myself saying before I can filter myself as I allude to our recent sleeping arrangement that neither of us has tried to speak of outside of said happening arrangement.   
“Albeit an amusing occurrence, I will be very disturbed if ever it does occur.” I feel her fingers lace with mine as she reaches to scratch behind Diego’s ear through them “I better just keep that close watch on you I’ve been maintaining.”   
The veterinary comes swiftly through the door, holding up a syringe as he walks towards Diego. “I’m just going to give him this antibiotic shot and we’ll be done” He says as he reaches over to fluff the fur on Diego’s uninjured side, before proceeding to give him quickly giving it to him. “But there shouldn’t be anything to worry about, as long as Diego refrains from rolling over where there are broken glass shards.”   
We both nod, giving him quiet thanks as we listen to his last few instructions about when and how to give Diego his anti-inflammatory pills before he calls for one of the helpers to assist him in lifting the big pup and placing him back on the floor. We follow him back to the desk as he proceeds to write down the prescription, making a few swift notes on his laptop to Diego’s file.  
“Oh and Mrs Carlin, congratulations” He smiles, looking at our still linked hands. “I ran into your mother the other day and she told me”   
Spencer smiles warmly at him, squeezing my hand in the process “Thank you, doctor” He smiles wider, tapping him screen. “Should I put Diego down as Diego Carlin-Davies?”   
I laugh a little bemusedly as Spencer’s laughter echoes undoubtedly a little warmer than mine, because her laughter always seems to echo a little warmer than mine “I think we’re just going to settle on Carlin for him.” I jump in the say smoothly. “He finds in a bit of a mouthful as it is having one last name.”   
“You should just go ahead and do it, doc, we’ve got the rest of our lives to teach him.” Spencer says as she turns around and places a kiss on my cheek.  
xxxxxxxxxxxxx  
“So what time does your friend get here?” Spencer says around a mouthful of the take out lasagne we brought home on our way from the veterinary clinic. “Sophie, right?”   
“Sophie, yes.” I say with a nod as I hand her a napkin, softly smiling as she gets some melted cheese against the corner of her mouth. “And her plane lands around four”  
She smiles sheepishly, taking the offered napkin and wiping at the white stain before bunching it in a tiny ball and gently placing it on the coffee table. I watch Diego eyeing it longingly and chuckle to myself. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to.” I tell him with a mock glare.  
“You’ve never mentioned Sophie.” She says after a short beat, and I turn around again to face her. “Well you haven’t said much of anything about your stay in France, really.”   
I shrug, placing my near empty plate on the coffee table, as I reach for my glass of water. I wanted to say ‘you haven’t asked’, but that would’ve been petty of me, and I’ve been trying to be less of a petulant young woman and more of a mature adult. And she was right, I hadn’t shown any interest in talking about it, although I knew most of them really wanted to ask and know.   
I rest my elbow against the back of the couch, my fingers making a few shapes against the material of the couch, one that’s name I never seem to remember, or don’t think I’ve ever actually known. “It was nice, you know, there was the studying, and the getting to know a new country, meeting some new people, which took me a while, because you know how I like to keep to myself.”   
She nods, smiling at me, and I watch as she sets her empty plate underneath mine in a neat pile before turning around and giving me her full attention. “I travelled around Europe a bit too during the holidays”   
I saw her hands hover in the air surrounding my couch-doodling fingers, and watched as they hesitated for a second, before folding in her lap. “Where’d you go?” She asks quietly, as if afraid to break the speaking spell we were under.   
I hummed in thought for a second, tilting my head to look at her. “Spain, Italy, Austria, Hungary, Czech, and Netherlands” I listed the places slowly as images of each of their cities passed fondly through my head.   
“Amsterdam, eh? Went there for the art?” She smiles cheekily, and I chuckle as she winks exaggeratingly at me. “It all sounds very lovely, though.” She says after a moment, quieter, more serious.   
“I did visit the museums there, although, there were a few people just standing there staring.” I return her humorous smile, deciding to keep the banter light. “I suppose the air there gives art appreciation a whole other dimension.”   
“Probably adds a few unknown dimensions to it too.” She laughs gently, her fingers hovering again, this time with less hesitation as they nudge against my still doodling ones. “Did Sophie go with you?”  
I studied her tone of voice, not knowing yet almost certain what she asking. “To Italy and Austria, she did”   
“Those are mighty romantic destinations.” Her voice takes a different quiet as she again asks of me what she doesn’t seem to want to ask. And even though my first instinct was to say that it wasn’t, because it truly wasn’t, because Sophie and I had gone as what’ve come to firmly be, close friends, I find myself edging her on a cliff I wasn’t sure I wanted to come closer to and look. “They can be.” I nod.  
She softly smiles, her fingers leaving mine as they take to smoothing the random patterns I’ve drawn into the couch. “Where’s Sophie staying?”  
I pull my hand back, casting a glance at my wrist watch noticing that the time is edging on a quarter past three and I should be making my drive to the airport soon. “At my parent’s place, it didn’t feel right making her pay for a hotel stay when there’s more than enough room there.”  
“You could’ve offered her to stay here” She says pointedly, and I admit that I was going to but didn’t know if I should. “This is your home too, Ashley.”   
“I suppose I’ll see if she wants to share space with me or would rather stay at the house” I say as I get up, heading to the dining table where Spencer had put the car keys.  
I turn around when I get neither confirmation nor rebuttal to find Spencer watching me with a frown as I shoulder my bag. “I was more leaning towards you sleeping in my room with me and Sophie taking your room, but I suppose the alternative would work too.”   
“Sophie can be trusted not to divulge anything”   
“That’s all good then.” She says offhandedly before picking up the dishes and heading towards the kitchen.   
xxxxxxxxxxxxx  
I open the door to the apartment, allowing Sophie to step through the threshold first before following her in with her suitcase. She throws another amused glance at me as I struggle a little bit with the luggage, depositing it on the floor with a huff. “When did you stop packing lightly?”   
She smiles apologetically, before it turned into mock-indignation “I’ll have you know I can be all girly and go overboard with the packing, if I must. And I told you I could carry it myself but you kept insisting.”   
“Well that’s because you are all girly and wearing a dress and it only seemed like the appropriate thing for me to be struggling with these instead.” I smile kindly at her, stepping forward to gently finger at the white flowery material hanging a little loosely around her midriff. “You do look nice though, Sophie” I bring my other hand up and pull her into the second tight hug since her arrival. “It’s good to have you here.”  
I feel her arms come around my shoulders, squeezing me tightly back. “It’s good to be here sweetie. And I wanted to look nice, you know, make a good impression.” She mumbles weakly into the crook of my neck.   
I pull back to look at her, reaching up to tuck a stray dark hair behind her jet-lagged hair. I knew she was worried about meeting everyone, having heard of them for the last four years, and no matter how much of an integral part of my life she had been in those four years, I knew here, in this now, she felt out of her element. “You’ll make a spectacular impression. You could’ve walked through these doors naked and still be able to make a good impression.” I smile reassuringly before feeling an involuntary grin creep up my cheeks “Actually…”   
“I haven’t been here long enough for you to revert back into your creeper self” She swats at my arm playfully and I laugh before grabbing wrist and leading her through the corridor towards the living room. I call out to Spencer as we step into the room, not getting a response. I usher Sophie in, walking out of room and searching the house around for her and Diego, and upon not finding both, I realise I hadn’t actually seen her car parked while coming out.   
“She must’ve went out and taken Diego to keep an eye on him.” I return to the living room, taking a seat next to a more relaxed Sophie who shoots me a curious look. “He got a little naughty-pup injury while out on a walk this morning.” I say for clarification.  
She smiles sympathetically, her head nodding before it turns, looking around the space. “So, this is Spencer’s house?” I nod at her question. “Well, and yours as of late”   
I nod again, giving her a moment to continue taking the place in. “It’s beautiful” I smile at that, letting my eyes roam around the dully lit place too, watching with familiarity now how its warm colours did just that, spread warmth into it.   
“You know, Ash” I turn to meet her look, both my eyebrows raising slightly at the wonderment on her face. “When I told you to go back home and do something, I really did not mean for you to go to such drastic measures.”  
“You’re really clinging to those non-subtle French roots, eh?”   
She shakes her head, dismissing my comment, her hand coming up to gently rub at her forehead. “What have you done, Ashley?”  
“I’m not sure” I reply meekly, my hands open palm up and my shoulders coming up in a shrug “Helped a friend in need”   
“By committing yourself in a legal binding contract to them that could both incriminate you if something goes wrong?” her voice was raised and eyebrows scrunched, and until that moment, I thought the days when I’ll be chided like a child were long behind me. “And to Spencer? You committed yourself legally to her, as if emotionally and subconsciously weren’t enough?”   
I smiled weakly, because we both knew she was only voicing what I had been berating myself over ever since I agreed to this “I told you I wasn’t ready to come home.”  
“Yes, and this is all my fault.” She smiled good-naturedly at me before she shook her head again, as if to clear her thoughts, and I knew she was, because I knew the few emails we’ve exchanged in which I briefed her over what has happened had left her completely enraged and bewildered. “But why did it have to be you?”  
“Paula suggested it, I suppose she wanted to keep things in the family.” I scrunched my nose up at the phrasing. “Well, minus the incest that is.”   
She shook her head, dismissing my comment again “But why did Spencer agree? When you’ve been gone for four years and things had not particularly ended on a joyful note between you two before you just left without a word to her.”   
“She’s known me all her life.”   
“She’s known a lot of people all her life, Ashley. And things were still on a hiatus until you appeared magically and brought the solution to everything with you.” She was looking at me inquisitively, and I could feel the wheels in her head trying to connect with mine and whirl them around “Haven’t you asked yourself this? Wondered about it? And now Spencer seems to be gay too?”   
And I needed to put a break to them, because there are lines of steel that I’ve drawn long ago and that I’d never let myself cross “I can’t afford to ask myself these question, Sophie.”  
“Why? Might you get yourself in an even messier situation?” She laughs humourlessly, her hands now gesturing manically around “Because quite honestly, I’m not sure there is room for more mess without it becoming pathological hoarding, Ashley.”   
At my lack of reply, I heard her intake of breath, weighting heavily on the silence that has loomed for the last handful of seconds that seemed to stretch far longer than they actually did “Cowardice is really an unbecoming colour on you.”  
I flinched at her dry tone, looking up to meet her searching eyes with my steely ones “I’ve had a wardrobe malfunction for as long as you’ve known me, Sophie.”   
She winces, her hand shooting to grasp my knee, gently squeezing it. “I didn’t mean that, Ash. I’m sorry.”   
I laughed, shaking my head as I reach up to rub my forehead in a movement similar to hers and that started this “You did, and it’s fine. I am coward.”   
“You’re not, Ashley, and I am sorry” She shook her head vehemently, her hand leaving my knee and reaching for mine in a gesture to convey more apologetic assurance. “You’re just really bad at staking, and it’s always all-in or a fold with you.”   
I chuckled at her poker euphemism, my fingers closing around hers to give her hand a squeeze before gently extracting them as my phone sounded in my jean pocket. I take it out to find a text message from Dawn telling me that they will all be meeting us later for drinks as to let me and Sophie catch up quietly over dinner. I frown at the odd change of plans, appreciated as it was in order to give us a chance to get our bearings again. “It seems it’ll be just you and me en tête-à-tête for dinner before meeting everyone else later for drinks.”   
“Good, because you’ve got the French inquisition coming your way, and I’ve got a million questions to ask.” I chuckle nodding my head before moving to get up “Let me show you around so you can shower and change. I’ll do the same and we’ll be on our way”  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
“So who’s welcoming me here tonight?”   
“Pretty much everyone. Spencer, Dawn, Glen, and Kyla gets sneaked in for special occasions, curtesy of our manager friend as long as she’s stamped and non-alcoholically beveraged.” I chanced a glance her way, watching as her hands smoothed down her hips, straightening the flow of her dress, now a simple yet flattering black camisole, all the while smirking at her nervousness. “You know, lack of bravado isn’t very becoming on you.”   
“Oh you’ve just been waiting to throw that quip in for hours, haven’t you?” She narrows her eyes at me and I smile toothily in reply, my head bobbing up and down childishly.   
I reach for her elbow, gently guiding her forward as we walk through the doors in matter of minutes, it being a Tuesday night and there being a smaller line than usual at the entrance.   
We walk in and I spot Kyla instantly perched on the arm of the large couch. She glances a look at the entrance and happily gets up and walks towards us. I reach forward to give her a brief hug. “I see you’ve been successfully sneaked in, and on a school night, you rebel.”   
She smiles cheekily, joining her hands behind her back and shaking her shoulders much like a five year old having just gone in the cookie jar. “I am under adult supervision. Granted none of you get drunk and go all with the blurry vision.”   
“I think it’s safe to say this will be a tame night.” I step slightly aside as I let Sophie step forward. “You would be Kyla” she says with a warm smile, as she steps forward and gives her a kiss on each cheek. I smile widely as I watch Sophie smoothly slipping into her element, my heart filling with affection at seeing how genuinely happy she was to be meeting someone who has been a part of my life and how her nervousness swiftly subsided aside.   
“So you really do that? The French I mean, the whole hello kiss on the cheek.” I laugh as I watch Kyla’s eyebrow screw in wonderment “That must exhausting in big crowds.”   
“Kinda like the one I’m about to walk into now?” Sophie asks her with a trace of amusement. I watch Kyla chuckle as she steps aside, the sight behind her clearing to show a not very big crowd, although with a slight addition.  
“What is he doing here?” I refrain from pointing obviously with my hand towards the figure of Jack, seemingly in an animated discussing with Glen from his seated position between him and Dawn.   
“Well, Glen invited him.” Kyla turns around facing me, her figure blocking his presence again. “And Spencer yelled at him how you hated him and he had no business coming out with us tonight.”  
“She certainly got that right.” I frowned before I shook my head, trying to shake off the annoyance and trying to bury it where it should have been buried long ago. I gently put my hand on Kyla arm, ushering her forward “Come on, let’s go”  
I felt Sophie come up behind me, her hand closing around my forearm and she leans in to whisper to me. My eyes catch Spencer’s as Sophie’s question sounds in my ear. “Who’s that?” I hold Spencer’s eyes for a moment, but they leave mine as they descend upon my body, probably lingering on the contact between Sophie and me.   
I turn my head around as to inconspicuously answer Sophie’s question “Jack, Spencer’s ex-boyfriend” I see realisation down upon Sophie’s face before turning back around, my attention landing directly on Spencer who seemed to have gotten rapidly engaged in a heated discussion with Dawn who frowns before getting up and moving towards us, the frown on her face being replaced with a smile.   
I watch the same light banter go between Dawn and Sophie as it had between Kyla and her as I take a moment to walk towards Spencer. She places her drink on the table before getting up and meeting my march towards her. I feel her arms come around my waist as her lips land in a soft kiss on my cheek that seems to last several seconds. “Hey you” she says before pulling back.  
“Hi” I softly smile, my fingers coming up to toy with the end of a swirly curl that hadn’t been there this morning. “Where’d you go this afternoon?”  
She bunches my flowing black shirt around my sides between my fingers as they gently kneaded into the flesh underneath. “I went over to mum’s, thought she’d be less fussy if she saw Diego was fine.” I nodded, my hands coming to rest on her shoulders, fingers gently grazing her collarbones over her exposing strapless dress. I let my eyes trail to the left, seeing Jack avert his eyes immediately under my stare. “And I thought I’d get ready there, give you and Sophie time to catch up.” She smiles apologetically as she catches where my stare had focused. “I’m sorry about Jack.”  
I shake my head to tell her it was okay, we were all grown-ups and above petty feuds here. “Kyla said you yelled at Glen. How hard?” Well, I wasn’t above second-hand satisfactions.  
“Hard enough, you’d be both proud and impressed” She smiles toothily, her nose crinkling and her eyes shining with a twinkle so mischievous that I had to hold my breath in at the adorable sight.   
I feel a looming presence behind me, and I tilt my head back to find three very amused ladies watching us. I arch my eyebrow in response to Sophie’s skyrocketing one, as I turn around, my hands dropping to sides before one idly gestures between Spencer and Sophie. “Spencer, this is Sophie.”   
I watch as Sophie hesitates for the first time tonight before she slowly leans in and presses the two customary kisses to Spencer’s cheeks, who offers her a gentle smile. Before she could utter a word, the broad figure of Glen comes up behind Spencer, throwing a clumsy arm around her shoulders as he utters and loud and boisterous “Hello, ladies.”   
I hear Sophie reply in a similar hello as she steps forward and plants two kisses on his cheek. I anticipate Kyla’s snicker before hearing it, and find myself chuckling despite my earlier annoyance. “Sophie this is Spencer’s brother, Glen.” He smiles sheepishly and boyishly as I say his name, and I’m quickly reminded why I think of him as family, mostly because he is my idiot brother.   
I watch Sophie turn around towards the looming figure of Jack, having to inch up on her tiptoes in order to reach his face, that quickly contorts in what I assumed was destined to be his charming lopsided grin as his eyes make no mistake no roaming over Sophie’s figure. He places a hand on her lower back to steady her descent and I notice with growing irritation as it lingers there even after she steps back. “It’s a pleasure meeting you Sophie, I’m Jack.”   
I narrow my eyes at him, and only snap out of it as I feel Spencer stiffen next to me. Oh there is just no amount of yelling hard enough at Glen that’s going to make up for this.  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
“So, Sophie, how did you and Ashley meet?”  
I reach for the bottle of wine on the table, pouring myself my second glass as I watch Jack stumble upon himself furthermore as he fires one question after the other towards Sophie. “We went to the university.”  
“You’re a psychology major too?” It was Spencer who cut in this time from her position next to me. Although her hand had been perched on my lap all night, it had been stiff as had been her whole demeanour.   
Sophie turns around to face Spencer, her face leaving its practiced neutral contortion she’s been keeping all night towards Jack, as she smiles friendlily. “No, I’m an English Lit major, but Ashley had been taking an elective and that’s how we met.”   
“Oh, Spencer majored in literature too.” Kyla quipped in happily, sipping slowly on the one glass of wine she’s been allowed tonight at my own insistence after Spencer had seemed very reluctant.   
“Good, then we’ll have things to banter about while Ashley sleeps in late in the morning.” She smiles warmly towards Spencer, who returns her smile with a little nod of her head.   
“Or you could help me with my English homework, since Spencer never agrees to.” I chuckle at that, highly doubting Spencer was about to budge on that one, and by the lazy raise of her eyebrow I’d wager she certainly wasn’t going to.   
“I don’t think I’d be much for agreeing on that one too.” Sophie laughs at the young woman “You could’ve asked Ashley, she does know her literature very well too, you know.” Sophie says good-naturedly.   
I felt Spencer’s arm stiffen further more against my leg before she retracted it, going to reach for the bottle to top her glass. I turn my head to watch her. “Want me to fill your glass?”   
She shakes her head gently, offering me a tiny smile “It’s okay, I’ve got it, thank you.”   
My neck cranes instantly towards Jack’s heavy drawl as it fills my ears and I turn around to find him standing next to Sophie’s stool, one arm draped casually across its back as his other lay outstretched towards her “Sophie would you like to dance?”   
“You know, I’m not much of a dancer really.” She smiles up at him apologetically and he quickly looks at Glen in a show of manly-assistance. Glen springs up immediately to his feet, nudging Spencer shoulder. “Come on sis, let’s go dance, give Sophie a little group encouragement.”   
I look down rolling my eyes, as I reach for my glass of wine across the table. “I was more hoping I’d get to have tonight’s first dance with my wife, actually.” I look back up to find Spencer’s eyes at me, and in a try to dissipate the tension that’s been clinging to her, I smile warmly at her. I watch her face relax, a little genuine smile dancing across her lips for the first time in a little while now, as I reach down and grasp her hand. “Absolutely” I settle for the one word as I get up and lead the way to the dance floor.   
I weave my way through the few scattered bodies and settle for a little spaced spot in the middle of the floor. The gentle beat of the music not requiring much effort to gently grasp the rhythm and sway to it. I feel one of Spencer’s arm come up to stretch lazily across my shoulder and my hand instinctively comes up to close around the curve of her elbow as I let it pole my movement. “Are you okay?” I say, even though she can’t hear me, but I knew my words simple query would be easy to decipher. She smiles, answering with a simple nod and I feel satisfied.   
And I realise in that moment that this is only the second time we’ve danced together. The first being the day she said she’s marry me someday.   
I feel her arm loop around my shoulders and her fingers close around the back of my neck. I close my eyes, the feel of her fingers so heavy upon my skin that I could almost see them, visualize a permanent mark upon the flesh she’s so gently grasping. She leans in, her lips close to my ears as she starts to speak. “You know, the last time we danced together…”   
“I know” I say interrupting her. “I was just thinking about the same memory.”   
I watch her face come into my vision, as she moves back to look at me. My hands drop from its place now on her forearm to rest lightly on her waist. “You were?”  
I nod, the scorching ache swimming inside my lungs that she would be thinking about that day that haunted me so many times too, that we were casually mentioning it, casually bringing up thoughts and memories that have long anchored my very being. “Except the music was much more pleasant that day.” I smile brightly, and by the blush that ran across her cheek I knew she understood I was alluding to her singing.   
I reach up to slip my free arm around, my hand falling with a little more purpose near the curve her hip to pull her closer, her forehead not quite touching mine but her face remaining in clear and near vicinity. I feel her feet beginning to intermingle with mine, and I could feel a hot flush starting at the base of feet as it escalates quickly to grasp unto my lower stomach as one of her thighs takes gentle rest between mine. I reach up to run my fingers across the red tilt adorning her face, and I wonder if it’s residual blushing or if she’s standing at the summit of the same lava I seem to be floating upon.  
My eyes stray for a second and I catch sight of Jack leading Sophie to the dance floor by the hand. I let out a breath and turn my eyes back to Spencer’s watching as she turns around to spot what had grabbed my attention before she turns around staring hard at me. “What is it that’s grating you that much? The fact he’s Jack or the fact he’s hitting on Sophie?”  
“Both, both are bothering me.” I grit out, my irritation reaching its apogee for the night and tumbling out with the admission.   
“Maybe it’s better if we just call it a night.” Spencer says as her body falls away from mine as she steps back and walks off the dance floor and back to the table. I watch her retreating figure, my mind hanging between the slight confusion of her abrupt leave and the annoyance I felt towards Jack’s groping hands. I chance a purposeful look at the still dancing figures, and Sophie catches my eye. She seems to directly understand something is amiss and puts a bigger effort in extracting herself from his hold as she follows me off the dance floor.   
I reach the table to find the girls already up on their feet with their bags shouldered, Glen walking off towards the bar to probably take care of the bill.   
“Oh we’re leaving already?” Jack asks as he catches up to Sophie’s retreat, who’s now standing at my side.   
“Yeah, it’s been a long day for everyone, and Sophie could probably rest the jet-lag off for the night.” Spencer answers and she reaches for my bag and jack, passing them to me from across the table.   
I watch as Jack inches his way closer to Sophie and I, his hand coming up to close around her forearm “Ah well, Sophie where are you staying? I’d love to drive you.”   
“Oh for the love of God, I really don’t think she’s interested Jack.” I find myself blurting out before I could stop the outburst, by now, quite sure I didn’t want to rein it in anymore.   
I watch Jack stagger half a step back at my tone, looking at me, before glancing back at Sophie. I follow his gaze and turn to Sophie but I find her attention solely focused on Spencer. And I turn my head, letting my attention join hers, only to find Spencer with her jaw locked and her eyes boring into me. Before I could react, I’m pulled back to Jack as Sophie’s voice picks the moment back up from its halt.   
“It’s okay, Ashley. Jack, I’m sorry I should’ve said something, I was just trying to be polite but I really am not interested.” She smiles apologetically up at him, and he nods proceeding to mumble a long winded apology to her about coming on too strong and overstepping his boundaries. She shakes her head, smiling sheepishly before reaching up to grasp his forearm. “It’s fine, it’s just, I’m actually gay, and I’m staying at Spencer’s so I’m just going to head out with them, but thank you”   
He smiles awkwardly at her, nodding his head before uttering an “oh” before Glen arrives behind him and slap him on the back. “So, we ready to head out ladies?” Glen says cheerfully.   
“Yeah, I’ll just go and get the car from the valet. Meet you out in a few minutes” I say, before I turn around and head out.   
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx  
I stand in front of the mirror, as I reach up to wipe my make-up off. The drive back home had been mostly silent, with idle chatter about plans for the next day, Spencer proceeding to bid a quick and curt goodnight before going into her room.   
I watch Sophie step out of the adjoin bathroom back into the room clad in pyjama bottoms and t-shirt, folding her dress and placing it neatly on top of her suitcase. “You know” She says, looking at me from her position perched forward. “All those times, I highly underestimated how much you disliked Jack.”   
I roll my eyes, catching her amused stare through the mirror. “He’s intolerable.”   
“He’s just your average good-looking, and well, average guy.” She walks over to sit on the bed, and turn around leaning back against the dresser. “You’re just biased.”   
“Yes, well that’s a given.”  
I watch as she reaches back, taking one of the pillows and placing it on her lap as she sits indian-style. “Spencer thought you were jealous.”   
I furrow my brow at the off-handed comment. “No, Spencer knows I’m biased and hate him.”   
She leaned back against the headboard, tilting her head to watch “Yes she does, but Spencer also thought you were jealous of Jack, over me. She told me when you stepped out to get the car.”   
“I wasn’t jealous.” I shook my head, my mind retracing back to the night and trying to evaluate where I might have come off as jealous. I knew even to myself my argument would’ve come out meek, what with my outburst and the glaring “I was just annoyed at him, annoyed being the operative word, seeing as I am hold one too many annoyances toward him throughout the years and I suppose I stumbled into that overprotective thing I do that you hate.” I smiled weakly.  
She smiled back at me, nodding her head. “I know that, and I told her that too.”  
“What did you actually tell her?”  
“I told her you weren’t jealous, because she and I both know that if you were actually jealous then you would’ve never given any direct sign and would have even been less likely to act upon it.” She stated simply, as if it was a fact she was reading out of a book. “Because you are a stubborn idiot with an ego too big and insecurities too many for your own emotional sanity.” She added, with a bright smile. “That last part I kept to myself, you’re welcome.”   
I reached up, rubbing at my temples as a long day’s worth of a headache suddenly clang to it. “Pathological hoarding, was it?” I turned around, cracking my neck as I tried to relief the tension before reaching into my dresser drawer for fresh pyjamas. “I’m going to change and we’re going to sleep.”  
I marched to towards the bathroom, turning around to throw a smile at Sophie’s worried face. “It is amazing to have you here, Soph.” I smiled reassuringly at her, not wanting her to think her appearance had sprouted any added trouble. Because it hasn’t. I am the sole caretaker of my garden of trouble. “You know, I haven’t had this room to myself since I moved here.” I lean against the door for a moment, looking at her tiredly.   
“How so?” she asks confused as she gets up to pull the covers down.  
“Well Spencer has been sneaking in every night, and she’s just been sleeping here with me.”   
I watch as Sophie’s movement cease and she turns around to look at me, walking towards me “Why didn’t you mention that one?”  
“I hadn’t?” And I knew, I hadn’t, because I didn’t, because that was one grain of salt I didn’t want to ponder upon and that I wanted to let be what it was starting to be, an integral and natural part of how my day ended and began.   
“No you haven’t, otherwise you wouldn’t be mentioning it right now.” She says, matter of fact, making it clear that I wasn’t to try and derail. “You mentioned the rings, the talks, the psychotic ex-girlfriend, the obvious flirting, the 4 years’ worth of birthday gifts, but not Spencer has been sharing your bed every night.” She shook her head, reaching for my pyjamas and placing them heatedly on top of the dresser. “I should go sleep on the couch.”  
“You’re not going to sleep on the couch.” I say, reaching back for my pyjamas.  
“Then you should go sleep on the couch, but you’re not staying in the same room with me tonight” I furrowed my brow at her statement, not following, neither wanting to follow her. “There’s nothing going on between us, Sophie.”   
“Tell that to Spencer, who thinks you were jealous.”   
I shook my head, letting my thoughts sober up as I answered to what I knew she was saying bright and clear “Sophie, don’t plant ideas I could live without in my head.”   
“I’m plating the only idea that’s going to let you finally live in your head. Your choice Ashley, you or me on the couch?” She walks to the door, placing her hand on the knob.   
“Me on the couch.” I finally say and I watch her open the door for me. Her hands stops me as I’m walking out, pulling me back and in for a hug. “It’s good to see you again, sweetie.”  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
I hear Diego’s claws clinking hurriedly across the hardwood floor before I watch his big and lumpy cone-d figure stagger through the open living room doors towards me on the couch. I chuckle to myself as he attempts unsuccessfully to place his head on my lap a few times before he finally manages to find the adequate position. I lean up, running my head the length of his back, minding the bandages at the top of his doggy-thigh.   
“I was wondering what got him so antsy to get out of the room.” I look up to find Spencer standing in the doorway, her dark silhouette only drawn haphazardly by the linings of the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing. “Why are you on the couch?”  
I reach behind me, rearranging the pillows and propping myself up on them. “It’s just comfier here, less shared space.”   
“Well that’s a lie. It’s a big bed.” Her voice echoes quietly in the dark room, almost reverberating physically against the walls in the dim light and coming to bounce across my sheets. I watch as she moves slowly towards me, coming at a stop at the other side of the coffee table.   
I shrug, knowing she’d be able to see it, and knowing it’s speak louder in the darkness. “Well I’m a married woman, it felt like the appropriate thing to do.”   
I watch as she moves again, crossing right, her silhouette almost merging with the hardwood of the table as she comes to step in front of me on the couch. “So not a lovers’ quarrel?”  
“I wasn’t jealous, Spencer.” I speak simply and clearly, the ideas planted in my head blossoming at last, maybe well beyond their season. “I was childish and petulant, maybe, but not jealous.”   
“Why didn’t you just come into my room?” her arms shifted and for a quick second it made her shirt flutter against the air caused by her movement and I watched in ripe fascination as the edge of her shirt swivelled against the tops of her thighs, her hands coming down to appease it as her fingers started to gingerly play with its hem.   
I was tempted for another quick second, to breath and let out a long sigh if only to watch the movement again, but I swallowed instead and tilted my head back to look at her. “We could go now?”  
She stood still and quiet for a moment and I found myself hoping there was a slight beam of light for the first time tonight if only to see what’s playing upon her face. And before I could ponder that thought more, she had a leg strewn over my form and she crawled over me to nestle herself behind me, snug against the back of the couch. “This is cosier.”   
I reached behind my head, rearranging the pillows again so I could sink lower. “This is certainly smaller.” I said as I reach back down to arrange the covers, allowing her to slip underneath them. She did, instantly, and her front moulded so closely into my back, I felt the warmth from earlier tonight starting back at the edge of my nerves. I felt an arm sneak around my waist and purposeful fingers find their way under the hem of my shirt to nestle against the skin of my stomach.  
I swallowed the haze clouding my vision from her closeness as I tried to rearrange the blissful hoarding that was taking over my head. “There’s nothing going on between me and Sophie.” I spoke calmly, because I remember someone somewhere telling me that you shouldn’t touch a plant in blossom, rather speak to it.   
“But there was?” A soft voice spoke against the back of my neck, a purposeful leg slipping between mine as her body settled more comfortably into my own.   
“Yes, a long time ago, but not anymore.” I slid my hand, purposefully down, my fingers taking a purposeful stop against her thigh, closing around what they could reach of its back; uncharted territories. “I care about her a lot, she’s someone I love immensely, and worry about and care for, just like I would with Kyla.” But not like I would with you; purposeful, uncharted territories.  
“I’m glad you had someone to care for and to take care of you there.” I felt a brush of soft lips at the base of my neck, as with a last shift, she settled her head to nuzzle against the back of my ear, placing a final kiss there her voice coming in a sleepy lilt. “Goodnight, Ash”


	16. Like rum on a fire

The first vestiges of consciousness have always been a mystery to me. It’s a tiny and frail moment, and much as I’ve always wanted to cling to it, it always seems to somehow escape.  
It seems for some reason or the other, important, something that you need to put your finger on, yet, there seems to be a lack of distinctive precedent denting that ought to tell you where to aim and how to start.  
People are always talking about that first moment when you wake up, and that first thing you think about. But that’s really not it at all. Those, these, they’re the firsts of when your consciousness fully takes over. It’s what comes before, before the grogginess, before the ache of relaxed muscles being jolted back to life.   
It’s a weird expression, and yet, it’s always used -- Muscles being jolted back to life at the moment of waking up, the moment when the cycle of sleep is broken and you become awake.  
It’s a scary thought, cycles breaking. Safe circles going round and round, until they break, and you’re hanging off of a cliff.   
And why is it that consciousness always has such violent entrance fees? There’s always so much brute violence, sheer force; a baby being pushed out of its cocoon born into the world. Such violence.   
But then we’re tenderly cradled into the arms of countless repressions that allow us to continue living, oblivious to our inner most deep turmoil.   
But as I was jolted into consciousness, I felt myself cradled in a different hold, and while my eyes remained closed, I could feel the sway of another pair humming across the skin of my cheek.   
We are very intrusive creatures by nature, often committing the transgression with our eyes long before our bodies, minds or even words dare to. And while a look, any look, even more one so poignant that I could feel it across my skin, would often make me quiver at the penetrating intensity, this particular cradle felt far sweeter than oblivion to wake up to.   
It wasn’t intrusive, nor was it invasive as it tried to gently weave its way through my pores with a touch so delicate as if it was asking a tentative permission to slip past and in, seeking out and through the slumber, hesitant because of it, or maybe more confident, but certainly failing as it probes incessantly.   
“I know you’re awake” she says, only just then as her voice carries out does a finger come to lay on my forehead, nudging against my hairline as I feel wisps of hair tickling my cheek before they are pushed back behind my ear. “You’re not as discreet as you think you are.”  
“Neither are you” I hear my own voice, hoarse and heavy with sleep carry out, unlike her smooth one, and I wonder how long she’s been awake and if she’s already spoken to someone. And only just then as my voice echoes, do I feel the flesh still enclosed between my fingers that still lay nestled on top her thigh. “I didn’t know there was much discreetness involved in sleeping”   
“I wasn’t trying to be discreet. You could’ve opened your eyes at any moment and seen me watching you.” I feel the muscles underneath my fingers lightly contract, as if she were realising at the same time where my hand were. I don’t move it. “You were slightly frowny”   
I fight the urge to open my eyes and look at her, as I become aware with a smile that my brows were furrowing under her statement. “Aren’t I always slightly frowny? I’m pretty sure that’s standard default mode for me.”  
“Not always, not when you’re smiling that smile that makes your nose crinkle and your eyes sparkly little almost invisible orbs.” The pillow quakes under my head as I feel and hear her head come to drop on it next to mine, and the hand that was being used to prop it up is now draped slightly over my head. “A lot of the frowny though, a lot of the time, just not when you’re asleep.”  
I come to tell her that that’s a very astute observation of my sleeping habits, but I decide against it. And as the fingers on the hand draped over my head come to play with my hair, I open my eyes to her smile, not the silhouette of it, to her soft features, relaxed and clear in the light seeping through the opaque drapes of the glass doors separating the living room from the balcony. “Why aren’t you ever here in the morning? Well, not here-here on the couch, but never still in bed with me?” And I feel like a kamikaze, suddenly, crossing uncharted territories in the daylight and being led off of a cliff, and I cling unto that sole branch of curly hair sticking out of her too-pleasant-to-my-eyes messy hair.   
“Because we weren’t ready to talk about it before, when we’d wake up after the sun is up and it’s no longer just you, me, a cuddle, and a loom of unsaid keeping us safe and cocooned.” The words unfold from her lips like warm authentic cotton towels coming out of a dryer, without a crease, smelling of the fresh rosemary drops you slip into your laundry. “And because you’ve never asked me before.”  
“So this is on me?” I chuckle teasingly, relaxingly, because there was no blame in her statement, only statement, clean laundry ready to be folded.  
“No, no, of course not, Ashley.” She frowns, shaking her head quickly, and I smile, and squeeze her thigh in reassurance, leaving it begrudgingly and trailing my hand higher, my trail deliberative as it traces the path wholly, my stomach dropping delightfully and in perfect synchronicity with my fingers as they dip into the curve of her waist before wrapping around a thinly flannel covered hip. “I was just waiting for you to ask, trying to…” She stops, taking a deep breath. “I was just waiting.”  
She shifts, just barely, and I can only feel it as we’re so closely fitted in the small space, but she does, barely, and the fingers that were playing with my hair are reduced to one, gently trailing down my forehead, the bridge of my nose before it bends, closes, and the knuckle is gently running up and down my cheek, so persistently and delicately that I don’t know if she’s caressing my cheek with it or caressing it with my cheek. “And we’re ready to talk about it now?” I say in what I know in my head before my ears is a whisper.  
“Well” She says after what seems like an eternally long moment, and I feel it, as the tide of her shrugging shoulders comes to wash me away, lifting me up almost effortlessly and I am anchored back to shore by the en-compassing touch of a knuckle “We’re ready to not-not talk about it anymore”  
“Ah yes, that cleared things up” she chuckles, and it’s joined by another a second later coming from the kitchen. I tilt my head towards the sound, having completely forgotten anything existed outside of the radius of this couch.   
“Sophie is making breakfast” Spencer says to my silent question “and making Dawn giggle while she’s at it.” She adds with a note of amusement.   
“She does that sometimes.”   
“The giggle or the food?” She asks with a slight tilt of her head and her hand falls to nestle on my shoulder.   
“Both” I answer with a chuckle and Spencer returns the sentiment with a small lopsided smile. “Although I don’t think I’ve ever heard Dawn giggle.” I add with an exaggerated eyebrow raise and gently laugh as Spencer childishly nods and snickers in agreement. “I know” She says excitedly. “I think she’s smitten. Breakfast must be really good.”  
“Sophie does make a mean manly-sized breakfast.” I smile softly, trailing my hand back to run the back of it across her stomach “Hungry?”   
She nods, bunching her fingers around the material of my t-shirt over my shoulders and scratching the skin with her nails through it. “Did she make you breakfast a lot?”   
“She did” I say with a small nod, thinking of all the mornings I woke to Sophie sauntering around her small kitchen, fascinatingly too energized for my morning-hazed brain, with pots and pans and a table set “Sophie likes it when things are in order, happening on time, and in their right place.” I tilt my head, nudging the back of her hand with my cheek and her fingers immediately leave their nestling place to cup my face “But you know, me and order, and well breakfasts.” I scrunch my face up, shaking it into her hold with a smile.  
“Eat it if someone makes it or have obscene amounts of coffee if it’s not made?” I purse my lips up in resolve and nod and she shakes her head at me in amused disapproval as her thumb tenderly caresses the small crevice between my lower lip and chin.   
“I just don’t understand, why is it even the most important meal of the day?” And I didn’t. Nutritiously I did, of course, but breakfasts are just one more thing on my list of baffling concepts. "It’s like the equivalent of that perky girl in your 8am class, whose parents unfortunately named Pleasant and who you’re sure has some sort of sleeping problem that hasn’t let her sleep in 4 years ‘cause no one is ever that happy that it’s early morning.”   
She lets out a chortle of laughter before raising two amused eyebrows at me. “And I am just devoted to my coffee” I say with mock-indignation. “Sometimes I like to invite a cookie or two in, spice up our relationship.” I smile toothily, a bit too far gone in the joke to stop myself from completely dragging it out “Try new positions, cream on top, do it outside on the porch”   
I open my mouth, ready to fire another pun but quickly and sheepishly close it as she shakes her head at me. “Milked it?” I ask with a goofy grin.  
“The whole herd” She says brightly “You” She points at my nose before tapping it “are just a big ol’ lump of morning grouchy, lazy and apparently crazy”   
I instinctively tilt my head up in playful attack and I realise a second too late that her finger is enclosed between my lips, gently trapped as my upper teeth press into her nail and my lower ones sink into the soft skin at its pad. And I know that my senses have exploded at the memory association of all that she is, because I could not possibly be tasting colours, silk, sweet autumn rain and red berries.   
And I know I’m toppling over an edge, because against every conscious thought urging me to break our interlocked stare and let her finger slip from in between my teeth, I am too far swept in the darkening blue of her pools and her all too fascinating pulse I can feel drumming against my teeth through the pad of her finger.   
And I know my breath has quickened as she makes no move to retreat, and I am urged further into her waters. And as she inches almost unperceptively closer, I feel it lapping at my ankles, quickly coming up to cover my quivering thighs, burning icily between them and settling almost too comfortably warm at the pit of my stomach, I unclench my hardly clenched teeth and envelope the tip of her finger with my lips.   
And there’s a gasp, so quiet and so brisk that it instantly evaporates and my whole being jumps to catch it, but it is only met with the tip of my tongue as it trudges forward and pushes against flesh so small but that suddenly feels so heavy against me, into me, prodding back and through.   
“Spencer” Dawn’s voice echoes from the doorway behind and I am physically pulled back from my momentum as Spencer’s finger slips from my mouth “Breakfast’s ready you might want to wake Ashley up” Her eyes lose their focus for a fraction of a second, leaving mine and dropping to the finger resting against my closed lips. It moves, barely, coming to rest at the curve of my bottom lip, before it trails lower to my chin, leaving a cold trail of moister in its wake. “Spence”   
“I’m up” I say in an imminent voice, hoping my announcement will stop her approach, and as I hear the sound of footsteps halt I bring my full attention back to Spencer’s eyes that have come back to mine and have yet to leave them.  
“Then get up, both of you, so we can eat” Dawn says in a cheery tone, and I know I’ve voiced out some sort of agreement, because the stormy shade of blue I’m looking into is already speaking, something entirely different, entirely silent but entirely full of words, of letters, shapes, forms and calligraphy floating on the surface, only to my eyes and ears, and I listen to Dawn march back towards the kitchen.   
Her finger is still moving, descending in an achingly slow pace the length of my chin, and I am lost in the growing waterspout in the depth of her ceruleans that are becoming increasingly smaller as the black fog settles into them. “Your pupils are dilated” I let out in a shuddery whisper as her finger bounces with the gentle movement of my throat as I swallow the heaviness that came to settle into it.   
She doesn’t allow it to bounce back, extracting her hand and finally allowing our staring to falter. It doesn’t break, but I feel the pressure of the contact lessen and my surroundings coming back to me. “Well, you’re an even more attractive sight first thing in the morning.” She says with a small smile, as I feel her limbs swiftly being untangled from my body and she’s standing up next to the couch.   
I let myself drop flatly on my back, looking up at her as she adjusted flattened hair, her hands coming down to tug at the hem of her shirt. I throw the covers away in one swift movement, finding myself on my feet in front of her. She reaches for my hand, turning around and leading the way to the kitchen.  
I don’t have much time to ponder upon the last vestiges of my consciousness as I’m met with the sight of Sophie hovering at Dawn’s side trying to fill her plate further up while she tries to wrestle the pan out of her grasp. “Morning ladies.”  
Sophie takes advantage of Dawn’s momentary distraction to add an additional serving to her plate, and I notice that at her cheeky victorious smile, Dawn lets it go without a fight. “Shall I serve you?” Sophie throws her question at Spencer and I, and Spencer nods her agreement with a small thank you as I head towards the coffee pot. “Just coffee for me, Soph, thanks”  
“But I’ve been up cooking all morning.” She says exasperatedly at me, and I wince apologetically. “Those two will wolf your handiwork down in time, no worries” I say as I reach for another cup for Spencer. “Besides, it sounded like you were having such a great time cooking.”  
“I thought I’d keep myself busy until you two finally emerged.” She throws at me over her shoulder as she places the pan back on the oven and claims back her stool. “I mean, Spencer woke up, then she went to get you and just failed to come back.” Sophie quips with an innocent shrug of her shoulders, her eyes gleaming gleefully.  
I narrow my eyes at her, turning around to press the button on the coffee machine to make a fresh pot “Good thing Dawn was here to delightfully save your morning.” I turn around, resting my back against the kitchen counter with my hands folded together in front of me before catching both Spencer’s and Dawn’s indignant stares aimed at us and slightly reddening cheeks.   
Sophie lets out a small laugh as she catches their sight, apologizing, and I join in before giving them both a sheepish look. “Sorry, we just get carried away in the banter.”  
“They sure know how to exploit their resources” Spencer says to Dawn drily who nods with a raised eyebrow, and I nudge her shoulder playfully as I place a cup of coffee in front of her, reaching for a cube of sugar from the sugar pot and dropping it in it.   
“How very domestic of you.” Sophie says as she snorts into her cup of juice. I watch, highly amused, as she gets lightly swatted on her upper arm by Dawn, who turns quickly to me, as I’m preparing to launch my quip about their awfully quick-building domesticity, with a raised and accusing finger. “Don’t” She says sternly. “Be the bigger person”   
After my petulant interjection, that was mostly fuelled by my awful need to get the last word in almost always, the rest of breakfast flows quite good-humouredly as Dawn tells us quite animatedly about this live band that we’re supposedly going to see tonight at Grey’s, as we try our hand at another girl’s night out to salvage last night’s slightly botched attempt.   
I get up to start gathering the dishes, as Sophie insists on cleaning up the mess she made and Spencer wholeheartedly refusing to let her do the clean-up after she did the cooking. “Wash or dry?” I turn around at the question to find Spencer watching me with a coy smile.   
I raise my eyebrows at her “I never agreed to help, don’t make me pay the price for your being a polite hostess.” I say and she unabashedly ignores me as she fumbles in one of the drawers for a clean cloth that gets thrown to me without her looking. “I could always dry” I trail off with a toothy grin, ignoring the snickers coming from the pair that have settled back on their stools as I lean my hip against the kitchen counter, turning around to face Spencer as she comes to stand in front of the sink.  
I tilt my head watching Spencer’s brows furrow in deep concentration reaches for the tiny and old plastic container at the edge of the sink, filling it with water before squirting the dishwashing soap inside, suppressing the urge to laugh at how serious she looks. “Why don’t you have a dishwasher?” I ask, on second thought, as I tilt my head to the right, her eyes becoming visible to me from this angle.   
She looks up from her task, the sound of the water running now and she rinses the various plates and pots clean of residual food before starting to apply the soap, and turns her head to look at me, as if snapping out from deep thought “I’ve never really thought about getting one.” She shrugs, in genuine honesty, my question coming to her as if on second thought too. I watch the shadow of a hesitant smile play on the contours of her lips, her eyes bouncing in candid sheepishness. “I like doing the dishes.” She says in a small voice that barely reaches me but somehow crashes into me so powerfully I am physically nudged back a few years back when an equally timid voice told me equally unsure things, always edging on telling and asking for a permission to tell.   
“You do?” I ask in a small whisper, and she knows she has my unspoken permission. She nods, her lips curling in a lopsided smile, and her shoulder comes up in another shrug, this one, not in genuine honesty, but in childlike wonderment. And I wonder for a second, am sure for a second, that I could have a meaningful conversation with nothing but her shrugging shoulders.  
“I don’t know” She pauses, smile still in place, voice still lilting softly over the sound of the still running water as it grazes the edges of the plate she’s swirling underneath the stream. “It just feels like something essential to do.” She looks up and catches my eyes briefly “Like decorating your space and adding your personal touches, or how every house smells a certain way” She looks down again, her fingers squeezing into the sponge and disappearing under a rush of bubbles. I want to see them again. “Like the things that humble you down, sometimes; depending on who you’re doing them with and for, why you’re doing them. Like Christmas.” She says, her voice rising the tiniest noticeable octave as she settles on those words, looking up again as if she’s finally where she’s been trying to get. “It feels like Christmas.”  
“Yeah well, happy holidays.” Dawn claps, shaking her head from her place on the stool. I turn around, chuckling, to find her sitting alone, reading the back of a box of cookies. “Now hurry up, water’s a wasting.”   
I turn back around to find Spencer laughing, albeit the little crimson streak adorning her cheeks. I reach for the first plate between the small stack lined up on the edge of the sink to begin drying. “Where’s Sophie?” I ask as she walks back in through the doors on the right, leading to the hallway with a towel in hand.   
“I was heading in to shower and get ready.” She says, wiggling the towel in her hand. “What are we doing today?”   
“Well” I say in chipper voice. “I’m taking you to see my office. Cause it’s bring a French friend to not-yet-work-hours day” I flash her a smile and she bounces on her heels saying how excited she was to see it “Well, we’re making a stop at a few stores, I thought you could help me start decorating, or just furnishing really cause it’s still an empty space.” I watch her nod with a smile before adding as an after-thought, feeling like I’ve just set us up for a boring errand-running day “And show you around too, you know, in a crescendo, starting with the small and casual”   
She flashes me an understanding smile, and I know she’s okay with it. “Speaking of not-yet-work-hours, why aren’t you at your office?” I throw my question towards Spencer. “Had a late start” She throws in casually and I look at her apologetically. “No, it’s fine, really. I just phoned in and said I’ll be working from home today.” She reaches up to turn off the faucet before turning around and grasping the edge of the cloth I’m using to dry her hands. “Which I don’t really mind”  
“Just make sure you’re back and ready to head out to dinner before we’re off to watch the band.” I catch Dawn saying to Sophie as I tune back in to their conversation.   
“Um, I meant to ask” Spencer chips in a little hurriedly and hesitantly from her place leaning against the sink next to me. “Well, I was wondering if we could have dinner together tonight” She speaks her question to me before turning back around to face Dawn and Sophie. “I know you’re here to spend time with Ashley and catch up, I’m sorry to minimize on that” She speaks this part to Sophie, sounding sincere and apologetic, and Sophie smiles in reply. “But it’s just dinner for a couple of hours, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about a few things” That last part is spoken solely to me, and I catch her eyes, nodding   
I chance a look at Sophie and she offers me a casual shrug of her shoulders. “I’m sure it’s fine.”  
“It is, we’ll make sure she’s fed and well looked after.” Dawn says with a beaming smile towards Sophie before backtracking “Not that you need supervision or looking after, just that…” She stammers nervously, her hands coming up to wring unnecessarily in the air “You know, ‘cause we wouldn’t want you to be left alone.” She winces again at her wording. “Not that you’re being ditched or anything.” She throws an apologetic look at me with that last one, and I’m far too amused by her ramblings to care that she’s pulling me accidently into the tiny word-vomit hole she’s relentlessly digging herself into.   
She’s halted into firing into her next ramble as Sophie’s left hand comes up to gentle grasp her upper arm and squeeze in reassurance. She stops, taking in a breath before looking up to meet her gentle smile. “I just meant, it would be a pleasure”   
“All mine.” Sophie says calmly and breathily before extracting her hand and wiggling her towel back in my way. “I’ll be ready to go shortly.”   
“I’m going to go shower and get dressed too.” I say, before turning back to Spencer who seems to be still serenely leaning back against the sink and looking at my profile. “I’ll meet you back here tonight?” I ask to which I receive a gentle nod and a smile.  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx   
“What do you think?” I ask her, as we both stand in front of the shelves. The colours have started blurring, and I wonder for a second if there is such a thing as visual overdose like the one you get when you’ve been smelling different perfumes for a while that everything starts blending together.   
“I don’t know” Sophie says contemplatively, and I see her tilting her head to the right in my peripheral vision. “The light lilac kind of says ‘talk to me about your mommy issues’, the light red is more of ‘tell me all about your dirtiest sexual fantasies’, ya know?” I turn around at her playful voice, to see a tiny smirk emerge on her lips. “Don’t they usually come hand in hand though?”   
“Any you want to share?” I throw her way with a cheeky smile, and she chuckles shaking a finger at me “That is mighty unprofessional of you. And none that I’d want to share in such a crowded place” She marches over to a white lounge chair and reclines back against it “Though this chair definitely makes me want to share my deepest secrets that will surely have me stay single forever if anyone overhears.” She passes her hand against the cushions a few times, and I watch the little straight lines appear swiftly upon the material that looks similar to the one on Spencer’s couch. The couch I woke up on today. The couch I woke up on today with Spencer there with me. My limbs a lost heap between hers. “I believe we have found you a divan.”   
“You know I can’t really practice yet, that’s quite a long way from here” I say to her with a smile, as I do a small turn to take in potential addition to my non-work space. “And white is really not the colour I’d go for. Maybe something a bit darker, like dark brown.”   
“Dark brown is not particularly just a bit darker than white. Not unless you’re reading the scale from left to right.” She gets up to follow as I walk around the open space with different sections of home equipment, decoration and furniture. “Why is it that you have an office, if you can’t really practice yet?”  
“It just seemed like a smart investment to make.” I say shrugging my shoulders as I leaf through different drape collection, mentally picturing the window and trying to figure out if drapes would make a cosy addition to it or just smother the space.   
“It is, but most people would usually start small, like a small house for instance.” She touches my wrist briefly catching my attention as she walks us towards a section with small miscellaneous objects that are meant to be hung on walls. “I think it’d be better if you just kept the white walls and went for random art objects around. We could re-paint” She finishes with an excited smile and I smile back, because a day of repainting does sound fun, like colouring only for adults.  
“And since I don’t think you’ll be investing in a small house anytime soon, you could probably do better to invest in better works of art” She cringes as she watches the random horrifying works of ‘modern art’ hung around the aisle.   
“I didn’t think there was need for a house, I am currently living at Spencer’s and my parents’ house is mostly available and empty.” I answer half-heartedly, because I did think there was a need for a house, it was mostly the first thing I was planning to invest my efforts in when I took the plane back home. “I’m going to go ask for some white paint, the washable kind though” I add as an afterthought, thinking about how some children’s consultation sessions might turn messy.   
“You know” I hear her voice echo behind me, as she clearly decides to follow again. “Even your inability to commit is as indecisive as you.” I furrow my brow, as I turn around to face her, only to find her leafing through the stack of drapes I was looking through before she pulls out a dark purple one. “This would look good in your room. I noticed it didn’t have any drapes this morning” I move my eyesight down to the small packaged in her hand, nodding one my approval as I wait for her to expand on her comment. She notices me waiting as gives me a short incredulous look. “Well you know what I mean.” I shake my head “Well you know, you moon over Spencer for years, never making a move, only when you make a move, you run away, you get into a relationship you don’t really want, with me “She adds the last part with an impish smile and exaggerated gesture to point at herself “you get out of it, stay in a country you don’t want to be in, leave, and the first relationship you commit to that you actually want, is a fake-one, but then you invest in an office that you don’t need just in case.” At her theatrical wince that makes her whole face contort in what looks like pain, I can’t help out but let out a bark of laughter so loud that it alerts a few people around us.   
“And here I thought the worst thing about my indecisiveness is how long I take to order” I reach forward to take the purple drapes from her. “Oh that one is downright awful too.” She says, moving forward to stand next to me  
“These drapes are great, thanks for deciding on them for me “I bump shoulders with her playfully as we make our way back to the paint section and I pick out a few buckets and place them in the shopping cart Sophie went and got. “You know, I think I’m just going to go pay for these and we’ll head out. I’m feeling too outdoorsy to be inside a shop today.”   
“Oh, we should’ve gotten Diego and treated him to a day out” She bounces excitedly while we wait in line, and I send an affectionate smile her way, knowing she’s always wanted a dog but felt the responsibility too big while juggling endless work hours and classes.   
“I think a day out might be a bit a strain on his little injury, but we could always pass by the Carlin’s and you can be officially introduced to the man of the house” I manoeuvre the cart forward as the lady in front prepares to bag her purchases. “We might even run into Dawn there.” I turn my head to say over my shoulder with a smirk.  
She purses her lips at me as her eyes narrow in mock-annoyance “You know there’s nothing going on, right? And I let you use it to diffuse the attention from you and Spencer enjoying quite the lie in this morning.” I let out a long winded ‘mhmm’ and she huffs before swatting at my arm. “You’ve never mentioned her being interested in women before.”  
“She’s never shown any interest in women before.” I say to her as I return the cashier’s awkward smile with a big grin of my own as she catches bit of our conversation. “That is before your rainbow deliciousness came into the picture” I add the last part both to the annoyance of Sophie and the older lady now hastily struggling to check in the gallons of paint.   
“Not, not before, she still hasn’t shown any.” Sophie says bypassing me as she starts loading the already checked in gallons back into the cart to take out to the parking lot.   
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” I send my wink towards the lady at the cash register and she squirms uncomfortably in her seat, her hand coming up to snatch my bank card quickly working quickly to hand my back my receipt after at I type in my pass code.   
“That was unnecessary” Sophie quips at me as she pushes the cart out of the double doors “She was a perfectly nice lady trying to make ends meet servicing obnoxious customers such as yourself”   
“You know I love a good squirming opportunity” I press the tiny remote, unlocking the car as I proceed to open the trunk. “Speaking of customer servicing, how is your job hunt going?”  
“Still waiting for the right offer” Sophie says as she picks up two gallons placing them to the side as I pick up the last one and she manoeuvers the cart to place it out of the way. “There are good offers all around the world, you know” I say to her back after I close the trunk and wait for her to make her way back to the car.   
She raises an eyebrow at me, her finger coming up in a deft shaking motion. “I haven’t been here nearly long enough for you to try and recruit me.”  
I smile impishly as she obviously catches on to my very unsubtle and underlying meaning. “So, if I try in a few more days, would that be enough time?”  
“I can’t just move here, Ashley.” She says after we’ve settled inside the car, reaching up to buckle her seat belt. “I know you can’t” I answer as I do the same. “There’s paper work, and immigration papers. Which is why you should look for job offers first.”   
“I can’t just pack my things and move to another continent either.” She’s looking straight ahead, and I can’t help but frown at her stiff posture. “Also not what I’m saying.” I add after a quiet moment contemplating her. “You’re getting defensive over nothing.” She whirls her head around to rebut my statement and I cut her off by grasping her wrist gently in order to explain. “Sophie, I’m only saying that I know you’ve probably already got a few decent offers, and judging by your reticence to take them for whatever reason, maybe it’s not such a bad idea to broaden your horizons” I let go of her hand. “And not necessarily here.” I add finally, letting her know that the conversation has moved to another more serious tone that isn’t just my slight personal and selfish hopes of having everyone I loved around me.   
“Paris is broad enough for my horizons.” She speaks and I say nothing, not making a move to turn on the car because the tone in her voice tells me this isn’t a conversation to be had with the hum of car engine in the background. She turns around in her seat and stares at me. “Ashley, you know I’ve worked so hard so establish whatever sense of stability I have in my life. I don’t want to be one of those people with the no roots, no landing land. This is just important for me.”  
“I know it’s important for you. And what’s important for you is important for me. And your happiness falls into that category.” I reach towards her, placing a hand on her knee. “Sophie, I know you’ve craved a sense of stability for so long, and I know it was really hard to establish growing up without your parents.” The last part of my sentence falls hesitantly from my lips because the subject of her parents has always been a touchy one that we’ve only ever touched upon once or twice. “You have roots, they’ve grown and they’re what keeps you level-headed and responsible. They’re also what’s keeping you in homeostasis.”  
“I’m not in homeostasis.” She shakes her head and I squeeze her knee reassuringly. “You know roots extend.” I add quickly. “And the same flower grows here and all the way in Asia.”  
She softly smiles, swatting my hand away, “Don’t call me a flower”  
I chuckle gently, facing back around in my seat and reaching forward to turn the ignition on “But you’re so pretty” I receive a hard shove that makes me laugh harder. “I should ask Dawn what her favourite flower is” At her next shove, I wince in pain.   
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
I hear the loud clank of my keys as they are dropped unto the marble shelving facing the front door. The house is completely dark, and I wonder for a second why noise seems to echo louder in the dark.  
I take the first few steps into the small hallway, and am greeted by the faint sound of a soft violin coming from the living room. The door is ajar, and I can see the flicker of something trailing through the opaque squared glass frames. Before I can push the door and walk in, the violin dies down, the piece having finished and a new one starts, announced by the rushed keys of a piano that comes hastily in its wake, like a conversation starting in its middle, only to be met a few seconds later by yet again the sounds of a violin, this one far less gentle and a lot more desperate. Not that gentleness does not carry a desperation to it.   
And as I realise I’ve been lurking outside the door for a good minute, I step through it to be met with the flicker of the candles cradling the room along with the dim lights. And I stop for a short moment, to naively remark for the first time in months now, that the lights dim.   
“You know, with you standing right there, I’m starting to think that this all might have been unnecessarily ridiculous.” Spencer’s voice is carried through to me, but I haven’t seen her yet, because my sight has landed on nothing but her wringing hands, and I try to search through my memory if there is such a thing as selective seeing. Because I know my sensory system might is on overload, but I realise a second too late that nothing about her does not grasp at the frayed ends of my nerves and squeeze, and the sight of her lithe fingers nervously clutching to each other and the way her thumb is digging into the crevice of its counterpart makes me look up and put a face to the edginess.  
Her face is as always her biggest accomplice, as it betrays nothing. Smooth, porcelain, gentle, sprightly dip of her lower lip as it makes way for the smallest of dimples at the edge of her cheek. “I just thought, music and candles would be nice, and I don’t usually get to use a lot of both of them with company, because then people would constantly think I’m trying to romance them, or the girls would make fun me of me.” Nervous ramble. “But you wouldn’t make fun of me” She says after a long composing breath.  
“But I might still think you are trying to romance me.” My voice sounds a lot braver than I feel, and I take a chance on my impulsiveness as I let it guide me through with a few steps closer as I stand now only an arm’s length away.  
“You might” She says with a small nod of her head, before she turns around and reaches up to turn off the music. And it’s only a small few seconds, but they’re enough for my knees to weaken and take a physical dip as her bare back makes itself known to me. And I’m aware of the soft exhale that leaves my mouth, and I will my being to float with it so it can play at the perfect bow strings holding her shirt together at her nape before unceremoniously falling down, gently bouncing over the flawless arch of her spine and land at the matching strings tied against her lower back.   
“You didn’t have to” I say when the sound of the silence fills the space the space heavily between us. She turns around and I allow myself to take her in fully, because I have already been taken by her fully in this moment. Her white cashmere shirt closes delicately around her neck, its front delicate around her frame, overflowing over her curves and coming to rest snuggly over the edges of what I assume in the dim lights as tight dark blue jeans. She stands again sheepishly, her frame tall as it rests on black closed heels. “I have to say, I’m feeling slightly underdressed.”  
She falters, her head shaking, but not frantically, because Spencer is never frantic. She wavers, calmly but intensely, like an icy mid-February breeze. “I didn’t really dress up, I just…” She stumbles over her words, her hands wringing together again. “Just something you throw on while lighting the candles, and cooking dinner?” I jump in swiftly with a small smile and her eyes jump to the dinner that has been left forgotten for the last few minutes on the dining table. She chuckles, her hands separating and coming to rest at her sides and she walks over towards table. “It’s all lovely. You look very lovely.”  
I make a slight detour towards the music system, reaching up and flicking it back on, and she turns around to stare at me. “It was just getting to the loud and slightly angrier part.” She says and I nod in understanding as I reach up again, repeating the cd and the sound of a gentle violin fills the room again. “I liked it” I say, in small appreciation to her efforts, and in a smaller effort to rid the air and my chest of the heaviness of the silence.  
“What is it?” I say before she takes a seat at the table. And the question comes out rushed and hasty, because it is, because the last thing I want to be asking about is the music. She turns back around, staring at me intently for a few seconds before she walks back over towards me. “It’s Music for Egon Schiele. By Rachel’s. About the life and works of the painter.” Her words come in staccato, each coming with every step she takes towards me until she’s standing but an inch away. Her hair looks beautiful pulled up as two locks settle in spiral against her cheeks.  
“Do you want to dance?” She asks in a quiet whisper, and even though the request has me staggered a bit at its arbitrariness, it is only my eyes that sway for a moment as they move to the dining table. “What about dinner?” I say.  
“Are you hungry?” Her reply comes on point to my meek one, and her fingers are already at my forearms over the folded up sleeves of my shirt. I shake my head no, because my stomach has completely taken upon other functions than food-revolving ones at this moment. “But we’ll be heading out to dance soon enough.”  
“Maybe I just want an excuse for you to put your arms around me.” Her palms are pressed flat against my upper arms now, and the tiniest squeeze is jolting me into actions as my hands are reaching for her waist. “I just really need you to ground me right now, Ashley.” Her voice is small and vulnerable on my cheek as the inch separating us is rendered into a mere fraction.   
I feel her physically stiffen, solidify, mollify, as my hands close around the curve of her waist, my fingers coming to rest at the thin stripe around her lower back. I feel us sway gently to no particular rhythm, her temple coming to rest against my cheek.   
Her head shakes, and her hair tickles my jaw as she pulls back to look at me. “Touch me” Her eyes are boring into mine, and I try to cling into their colour, but I can’t see anything but dark orbs burying into me in the dim lights.   
“I am touching you” I don’t feel the words leave my lips, my body reduced to little tingles that I can almost see as my vision is attacked by little sparkles as I feel the heat climb up to my neck and head. “You’re not” she says in the same vulnerable voice and her hands are suddenly no longer resting upon my shoulder, but they’re against mine on her waist and they’re pulling.   
She guides my hands back, and they’re pressing against the skin at her mid back. “Why?” I croak out from my dry throat, and she’s reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ears, her vulnerability suddenly gone and she’s looking at me with a look so tender that I wonder how much of my vulnerability is showing right now. My fingers twitch against her, the sensation burning them and the contrast against her cold skin is fiery. It’s as if it was entirely new, even though the feel of her skin is familiar to me, yet the weight of her has never been so cripplingly light. “Because I need you to see, to feel, Ashley. I need you to see that I’m not the little girl you were once in love with.”   
Her arms are suddenly around me, coming through the loops in mine and pressing tightly against my shoulder blades, and I can’t tell who’s grounding who anymore. “And God does she have things to apologize for.” Her voice comes out in a choked tone before her brows furrow deeply. “And God do you have things to apologize to her for.”   
“I never asked for any apologies, Spencer” I frown, shaking my head as I try to pull back, but she pulls me back in, suddenly starting a gentle sway, and I remember that we are dancing.   
She smiles, soothingly, urging pleadingly to stay, one hand hooking over my shoulder as the other rubs down my spine. “You’ve never asked anything of me, Ashley. Even when you should have, even when you deserved to, when you had every right to demand. You offered me your love in one confession and took it all away in the same sentence. And I know that a part of you was just waiting for me to reciprocate, but you never asked and I barely had any answers. And that night, that last night I saw you before you left, I acted like such an idiot.” She shakes her head, looking down before she releases me from her hold and takes a step back. “Just thinking about that night, every time, fills me with so much regret, that it boils in my stomach, you know?” She chances a look up at me, before she looks at the far wall. “You know those moments you look back upon and you just know with certainty that you couldn’t have possibly fucked up more. But I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to seem like I was taking everything you were putting on the table for granted. I really wanted to see. I was drunk, and all I was feeling was the rush of emotions going through me for a whole day, a whole day, I was hanging on to every word you wrote, physically feeling the flush of every touch we’ve ever shared, and it was both exhilarating and deeply frightening to think that you wanted me, that I had that sort of effect on you, that you could come in and steal every fantasy I’ve ever had and place your mark on them so effortlessly, and I knew that you were going to pull away, you said that you were, and I wasn’t going to let you and I honestly, genuinely, just wanted to see it, so I can know it was true, if I could look into your eyes and see the desire, the want, the question.”   
“You said you wanted to see if my pupils were dilated.” I say with a small hollow smile at my comment this morning, because that was what I was referencing, because that night has been lurking at the back of every one of my conscious thoughts around her.   
“I could have definitely voiced my inner thoughts better, but a drunken 17 year old idiot, not so much in the eloquence department” She tries with a smile, her hand coming up to grasp her elbow before she rubs the length of her forearm. “And then you were gone, a few days later, Dawn says you’ve left to France and for a long time I don’t think I was able to process any of it. That you were gone. That everything had really changed as soon as you put it into words. I thought I had more time. I was so angry, at you, at myself”  
“Everyone was angry at me for leaving like I did, Spencer. And that was the least I could have expected.” I say with an honest shrug of my shoulders “I actually expected more resentment and questions, but I suppose I was lucky enough to be surrounded by people who were only glad to have me back.”  
“I was glad to have you back too. But I was still angry at you. For not staying, for not asking, not demanding” She rubs at her temples, her hand going to back of her neck as she looks down for a second before taking in a deep breath. She walks over to the music system, quickly turning the music out and letting out a sigh as if the sounds had been too constricting. “They didn’t know what I knew. They didn’t hurt you like I did.”  
“What did you want me to ask Spencer? “My voice suddenly comes out loud and angry in the hollow space. “Did you want me to ask you to return my feelings? Demand that you feel the same? Forgive me for wanting to preserve that last shred of dignity I had in me over fully fulfilling your fantasy” She whips her head up violently and I raise my hand up in a show of slowing down the escalating tension. She seems to understand that my defences had gone up on a whim “Just because you didn’t return my feelings...” I hold her eyes again, a little softer, my other hand coming up to circle the empty air in front of me in an act of defeat. “It’s not something you could’ve controlled less than I could have controlled developing feelings for you. I was hurt, and I left, but that was on me.”   
She breathes in deeply, taking a few steps to lean against the back of the protruding arm of the ottoman near the circular bar separating the living room from the balcony. Her arms are folded together in front of her and she’s looking at me, not meeting my eyes. “I went to see you, you know. A few months after you left.”   
The statement hangs between us, ending as abruptly as it had started and it makes my heart race as fast as my eyes are darting, never straying too far from her, only skirting around the edges of her form in confusion. “What do you mean you went to see me?”  
“It was around Christmas. I thought I had processed things enough.” Her eyes are suddenly on mine, and the accelerating tension in my heart jumps suddenly to my throat barraging the incessant stream of questions making my ears ring. I don’t have time to gather myself enough o ask them as she continues, as if sparing me the effort of composure.  
“It wasn’t hard to figure out where you were.” Dawn hadn’t changed any of her passwords in forever, probably still hadn’t changed them now. And it was so easy to just listen to the temptation that had been gnawing at me and log into her email and find out your address.” And I am mentally leafing through the first few emails we sent to each other, the ones where the hype of a new city, and a new postal code filled me so much giddiness as I wrote the details of them to Dawn as the disappointment of never finding Spencer’s name in my inbox day after day weighted heavier with time.  
“So I took a plane a few days before I was supposed to come home for the holidays without telling anyone. And the cab dropped me off in front of your place. And I stood outside that gate for maybe twenty minutes, and I just never knew a tiny button with your name written under it could be so hard to push.” Her fingers are wringing together again as if the tension of that same moment she’s speaking about tugging at them. She wipes her hands on her thighs and I’m aching to know if they’re sweating because I know my shirt is clinging desperately to the heat burning across my spine. “So on I sat a bench outside for two hours trying to muster enough courage, in the cold, which I wholeheartedly wasn’t prepared for.”  
And my senses are assaulted so viciously by the image of Spencer sat on my bench, the one I’ve toyed with taking numerous season-changing pictures of, in one of the numerous light jackets she owns in her complete unreasonable refusal to ever buy a heavier one. “And I had three cups of cheap horrible coffee from a shop that was around the corner and the idea that you’ve definitely tried it at some point and most definitely hated it warmed my heart. And I wondered if you thought the man inside looked like Lord Covington too from the movie Madeleine, and by the third time I was sure you had, somehow, because the resemblance kept making me want to chuckle and I was just certain you wouldn’t have missed it.”   
I hadn’t missed it, I kept coming back every morning for the first few weeks, partly because I was too homesick to properly discover a city, and because the resemblance always made me smile. “And I looked at trees you’d probably been looking at every day, and it made me miss you even more than I already was, to know that I never appreciated it enough, the fact that we shared so much, that our eyes landed every day on the same places, that I got to share such a big part of your life, that I was such a big part of your life until I wasn’t anymore. And the sights that I was taking in and that were so new to me now were probably nothing but a quick glimpse to your eyes as you made about your daily routine. That you had a different routine now, and I couldn’t share it or know it, get a clear visual of you in my head, that I never fully appreciated how naturally the image of you could jump into my thoughts, that I could paint you around places and things, paint me along with you through them, that I lived for so long never realising that I carried a paint brush in my pocket with nothing but your face on its strokes.”   
But it was always easy for me to paint her along, that the feeling of her nudging against my side as I walked through streets left me wobbly on my feet for a long time, that she carried herself like a proud child on my shoulders so naturally that I was never able to get rid of the slouch. And I didn’t know what the knowledge that she carried a weight of me was doing to me right now. “And then I saw you, you were struggling to unlock the gate, there was a guy with you, tall, gruffly hair, and he was making you laugh so hard that you dropped your keys. You held unto his forearm as you leaned down to get them but you were still laughing so hard that it took you a little moment to recover as you were bent down and swatted at your yellow scarf that was in the way to see where your keys were. And I got up as you did.” My head jerked about unconsciously as if I was willing myself to catch sight of her, in her memory, in a memory I have never lived. And my ears were buzzing with my own voice telling me to look up, that she was standing right there. But to what end? ”But then I saw it, your smile, that look in your eyes. It was a look I’d never seen before.”   
She shakes her head, her hands that were now poised behind her, trapped beneath her bottom as she sat on them. She pushes up, squaring her shoulders. “No, it was a look I’d seen many times, stared at for long moments, many times, smiled at, felt my heart soar at, many times while you were unaware because it was never one I’ve seen directed at me. You’ve never looked so happy around me, so carefree, just free and unladed.” Because you swirl oh so fluidly for solid matter around my arteries, Spencer. “And I realised that I didn’t know what I was going to say once I reached you. I’d really been on a plane to see you, after we’ve left things where they were, and I honestly had no idea why I did, what to say, and or why I even came. Except to see. And I had. And you seemed happy. And it was all I needed to know.”   
She’s walking towards me. I’m not looking at her anymore, because I can’t both look at her and fight the emerging sob that is persistently climbing up my lungs and that my chin is trying to desperately press down as it clings to the upper chest “So I left again.” She adds unnecessarily.  
I watch her feet shuffle ungracefully in her heels as she edges closer to me and a hand float its way towards mine. She hesitates as my fingers clench into fists. “Can I touch you?” she whispers weakly, and I swallow heavily, shaking my head. “Please don’t” I croak out just as weak.   
She extracts her hand back, and I close my eyes as I try to clear my head of the muddle of thoughts spiralling inside, physically bashing one corner as they bounce to the other. “Ashley” Spencer’s voice comes filtering through my ears, way warding my mental battering but the loud noise of the intercom is sounding before she can continue and it makes me look up at her. She’s standing less than a feet away, the noise not seeming to have registered. It sounds again and her eyes dart towards the foyer before coming back to mine. She doesn’t say a word as she makes her way towards the front door, the sound of her heels loud and forceful.   
She comes back a second later, seemingly too short as my thoughts seem to have paused since the moment she left my sight and the one where she was stood back in front of me. “The girls are here” she announces, and I frown, wondering how long our silent intervals had lasted for it be two hours later. I look towards the dining table where dinner had stayed untouched and I suppose her vision had joined mine as she speaks “I’ll put it away, can you go down and tell the girls I’ll just be a few minutes?”   
I nod at the sight of her exposed back standing in front of a chair, her knuckles closed around its back as her neck strains to the side before rolling across her shoulders before I make my way to the front door.


	17. And I told you to be balanced

“Why is it that we say that the truth hits you like a cold shower?” I ask him as he stares at me with big hooded brown eyes. He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I know he’s definitely thinking this is absolute none sense, especially so early in the morning when he’d rather be asleep. “I mean, it does” I add quickly, and his head tilts questioningly. “But that is only the kind of truth that you already know, you know?” 

He shakes his head with vehemence, before settling back, his eyes boring into mine. I sigh, berating myself entirely too much in an entirely too short time for my inability to ever say what I want, not even to myself. 

“That truth, when you have to hear it, or see it, it doesn’t exactly hit you, but it feels more like your nerves coming to life from a glacial sleep, and they are just being forced to acknowledge it.” His head bobs at the sides, and I get the impression that he might actually be following me. “And that’s not really a truth, is it? It’s a fact. Because I feel like truth has to always be accompanied by fireworks, or at least a flare.” He makes a noncommittal noise, and I make a thorough decision in that moment that he is agreeing with me. 

“I mean, truth is definitely a scorching hot shower. Expressions are an idiotic thing, don’t you agree?” I know he would most certainly like to be asleep, as his eyes slip shut for a second before he jolts back awake with a twitch. “But it bothers me, you know? The expression; cold shower. Truth is a hot shower, it drizzles on your skin, it lulls your muscles to sleep, faults you into a sense of familiarity, but then it inadvertently hits a new spot, one that was once at bay, and you suddenly feel the burn and turn back around.”

He sighs, long and hard, agonizingly so, and I know he’s getting exasperated with my rant and would rather we did something else. “And then you step out of the shower, and your skin is red; you’ve been burnt. But you think it’s relaxing, because it’ll soon go away. Because that’s the thing. You’ve found it, found out (been found out), but truths, they are fleeting. You can’t hold it, but it cradles you, leaving you in an eternal restless sleep.” 

“Oh, Good morning, honey” A voice echoes from a flurrying figure as it passes quickly in the hall, disappearing behind the wall before reappearing again. She stares at me, her eyes trailing to my companion with a raised eyebrow before frowning amusedly. “Coffee?”

“’morning, mom” I reach for my empty cup, getting up. Diego shifts, his head falling off my lap. “You can go back to sleep now.” I say to him, but he wags his tail excitedly as he watches me stand up, and I scowl as his body wiggles with a shake before he trails after my mother to the kitchen. “Oh now you’re lively” I yell after him as I too trail after them.

“Spencer, stop annoying the dog.” She says, her back turned to me as she fiddles around with the coffee machine. “We could’ve gotten a cat for that.” 

“I’m not” I huff, in what I know is a petulant way, but sometimes I just can’t help myself. “He’s such a good listener.” My thoughts stray for a second to someone else who’s always been a good listener. But it’s her voice that I find myself missing right now.

She brings the pot forward, carefully filling my cup before tending to hers. She sits down on the adjacent stool, her fingers coming down to scratch absentmindedly at Diego’s head, all the while smiling lovingly at me. “It’s good to have you back, honey” My heart lifts for the first time at her mere presence. “It’s good to be back, mom.”

“How’s Ashley?” She says, between a swift cooling blow to her cup and a small sip. I stare at her questioningly, echoing the name back in question, and she just stares at me for a few silent seconds. “That is who you went to see in France, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know?” I ask after an awkward wince. I hadn’t particularly meant to keep my case of hopping on a plane a secret. My decision to hop on said plane came as rapidly as did the actual follow through. I didn’t mention it, because I didn’t want to ponder upon it, knowing if I had, what little courage seemed to have driven me to do so might fail me. Now that my actual courage had failed me to do anything with what I had done, I had hoped to not have to talk about it, because what little I thought I had been able to process, I quite obviously needed more time to actually process. 

She raises an eyebrow, looking down at Diego then back at me as if to tell him ‘can you believe her?’ “You do know that I pay your card bill, don’t you?” 

I chuckle sheepishly, clearing my throat and nodding. “I thought you never looked at those.”

“I don’t” She nods back casuistically “I do trust you, and I am mostly used to Glen’s occasional shopping extravaganzas. But when your bill goes up about a thousand dollars over its usual, then I make sure to look.” 

“I’m sorry, I just wasn’t thinking, I probably should’ve said something.” I say shortly, and sincerely, because I really hadn’t been thinking.

“Okay” She says as shortly, and slowly, but I still feel chastised. I wasn’t sure if she was chastising me, or if I was chastising myself in my head yet again. “That is why you went, though, wasn’t it?” She pauses before adding at my lack of reply. “To see Ashley?” 

“It was, yes” I nurse my untouched cup, one of my hands covering it, making wet traces appear around the top. “But I didn’t see her.”  
“I don’t understand. Couldn’t you find her?” I trace a wide circle around my mug, watching the steam float up. “No I did” I say, tilting my head back up to find her watching me patiently. “I did see her.” I say again, this time to her watchful gaze. “I just…” I trail off, shrugging, waving my hand around, trying to catch my scattered thoughts, put them back in my mouth and try again. “I’m sorry for doing that.” I find myself apologizing again, partly for my eloping, but mostly for my reticence. “I just wanted to go, see her, see how she’s doing, maybe try and fix things.”

She smiles slightly, parts in encouragement, part in confusion. “So, what happened?” She finally acquiesces.

I laugh, hollowly, because a part of me wishes something had happened. Because even though, back there, watching her, I felt that something was happening, something that I shouldn’t have been privy to, something that I had never been privy to, and something that I should just let happen. Now, it feels like a big hollow void of un-happenings has settled in my chest. “I saw her, saw she was doing well. She seemed happy.”

She smiled, a genuine smile that I knew was truly genuine, and because I knew she loved Ashley dearly. “But you couldn’t fix things” Her question comes out carefully, her eyes narrowing in contemplation. “You don’t carry the face of someone who fixed things.” 

“I didn’t talk to her. I stood there, watching her from a few hidden meters, and the sight of her happiness transfixed every muscle in my body in its place.” I look down at Diego from my place, perched up on a high stool, and his brown eyes remind me of her dark sultry eyes. When had her eyes gone from being beautiful browns, to sultry browns? 

I groan inwardly, because staring at my dog’s eyes is making me think of her eyes. Because my brother’s hideous yellow curtains reminded me of her yellowish cashmere scarf, because the flight attendant’s lithe hands reminded of hers on the flight back home. Because bumping into a beautiful stranger and placing my hands on her waist unthinkingly to squeeze through the crowd made me wonder what Ashley’s hips would feel like if I was squeezed into her so closely. “I just didn’t know what I was doing there anymore. And I didn’t want to rob her away of that by showing up announced and unprepared.”

“Unprepared for what?” I smile at her question, because I could always horrifyingly count on my mother to go straight to the point. What was I so unprepared for? What had I gone there to do? I wanted to see her. I had been missing her. I am missing her. And the mere idea of having to go one more day without seeing her filled my heart with a feeling of impeding dread. 

“I was just sitting in my room, and I felt like I had an epiphany, you know?” She cocked her eyebrow at me, clearly stating she had no idea what I was saying. And I didn’t either, really. “I just felt it, like all the bricks had fallen into place and the one place I needed to be was in Ashley’s presence. And when I was, I realised it was just that, I had felt it, fleetingly, but I had not thought about it, and I just…” I clenched my fingers so hard that I felt the bones crack, bringing them up to my hair and tugging. Her eyes held mine and in them I saw a wave of bewilderment. “She said she had feelings for me, before she left.” I found myself saying before I could stop myself, and I didn’t know if it was to clear up her confusion or mine.

She nods, again, slowly. “Okay” She lets out slowly, with another nod, reaching for my untouched cup of coffee and taking a sip from it before claiming it. “So, Ashley said she was in love with you, and you followed her to France to do what exactly?”

I felt my throat grow tighter at her words as I hurried to intervene “She’s not in love with me, she only said she had feelings for me.” 

“Oh honey” she lets out with a chuckle, soon transforming into amused laughter before she sobers up and looks at me seriously. “Don’t do that” I say sombrely, taking in her laughter. “And why don’t you seem surprised?”

“But I always call you honey” She says good-humouredly, before backtracking at my admonishing look. “Everyone knows that having feelings for someone is a synonym for being in love” at my hearty intervention of that not being true, she backtracks with her hands held up in a show of surrender. Because it wasn’t, feelings are layered, complex and varying. It does not always come down to the same thing. “And it’s not that I’m not surprised, I just thought there was a bigger picture to look at.” 

“And what is that?” I grit out irritably, not at her, but at myself, because it feels like my brain has been regurgitating everything into questions that I have absolutely too many answers to entirely too many questions, and I just don’t know which answers to what anymore. 

“Why did you go to France?” She echoes back, and I sigh before the question has fully left her. 

“Because it’s Ashley.” Her name feathers its way out of lips my like sacred certainty, because despite my latest inability to actually accomplish anything, she’s still there, unabashedly, unbeknownst to even her. And I think I understand now, how faith works, why religions preach love and adoration. Sneaky bastards. 

“Because it’s Ashley, mom. She tucks me to sleep on Neruda’s cherry tree and wakes me up for morning hikes along Frost’s road that no one’s ever taken. She reads me Plath and I think nothing has sounded more joyfully agonizing. Because she smells like what the ocean would probably smell like in Wonderland. Because her eyes make eyeliner seem sultry and not the other way around. Because she laughs at my jokes. Because she laughs at her own jokes.” I let out a chuckle at the image of her cackling hysterically at something she had said. “Because her jokes make me laugh, and because she has the most god-awfully horrible sense of humour.” 

“I like her sense of humour” She says after a beat, her eyes boring into me tenderly as I catch them for the first time since my tirade. “Yes, because it’s reminiscent of a bitter old lady.” 

“How dare you” She gasps “I am not old” I gently laugh as her hand comes up to her chest before reaching across the table to take it between mine “And neither are you bitter” I bring her knuckles to my lips, pressing a long kiss there. 

“Spencer” She says, and I hum in reply. “Do you have feelings for Ashley?” I look up from my forehead resting against her hand, taking a deep breath and shaking my head. “I have a vast array of feelings for her, mom.” I take another deep breath cutting her next question as she makes to ask it. “I know you’re asking me if I have romantic feelings for her. But I don’t know, I mean, it’s Ashley, mom.”

“I’m aware it’s Ashley, even more so since you’ve pointed it out several times now.” I offer her another smile as her yet again attempt at humour “And you’re Spencer, I think that holds the same weight to her too” She stares at me sceptically before covering my hand in hers. “Spencer, is this about Ashley being Ashley, or Ashley being a girl? Because I can understand how that might be confusing.” She gives my hand a squeeze and a little tug, urging me to look at her. “You know, it wasn’t a curtesy, the acceptance we offered Ashley when she came out. It was just that, acceptance, and if those thoughts are what’s making you so reluctant, I just want you to know you’ll be met with just as much support.” 

“It’s not that.” I say, squeezing her hand back in a show of appreciation at her reassurance. Because it wasn’t. “Maybe it’s both. I don’t know. God, mom, why is that I just don’t know what to think about this, even less what to feel.” I rub with my free hand at my eyes, the pressure against my eyelids alleviating some of the tension in my head. “Except, it’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past months. And I don’t know what that means. Doesn’t everyone want to fall in love with their best friend?”

“I thought we weren’t talking about love.” She says with a crooked smile, and I lean back in my seat, my down-stretched arm finding the gentle scruff of Diego as he comes to settle next to me and running through it. “We weren’t before.” I say with a smile of my own. “But Ashley isn’t the kind of girl you have feelings for. She’s the kind of girl you fall hopelessly in love with.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

We are a despicable species. 

Truly, we are; our history archives are full of all the atrocities the human race has committed against not only itself, but also other species, the environment, the planet, and we even went out of our way to expand to outer space. Slavery, crusades, jihads, female circumcision, animal abuse. Our vast ranges of cruelty are truly something to behold. 

To top it all off, we are indecisive little fuckers. But not in the conventional way, such as my indecision moments ago to have another drink due to the fact that my face is getting tingly like it always does before drunkenness ensues. No, that indecision, albeit dreadful, is not really what adds to our shame. 

It’s the other type of indecision, that isn’t quite an indecision but more of a driving force behind it in a most pivotal way. It’s our ability to be so ambiguously ambivalent. I imagine whoever created us, or whatever cosmic catalyst led to the creation of the human race had to have had such ambivalent feelings towards us. ‘I’m not so sure about these, ya know, I mean, in a few million years they’ll go all at it with sticks and stones, pock someone’s eye out. And wait ‘til they discover fire, first it’ll be all heat and warmth, no more raw food, and then they’ll have those Salem Witch trials, burn some progressive women. I don’t know. Let there be man, I suppose.’ 

We are even the only species that is capable of being ambivalent about itself. We are both able to love and loathe at the same time. I mean, am I the only one that the mere reality of that possibility brings horror to? We want, we crave and fear, all at the same time. 

Some, Ashley notably, would argue that it is what makes us complex, intelligent and layered creatures. It is what allows us progress, survival and retrospection. It is what allows us to feel profoundly and more deeply than, say an ant, or a plant. She would also argue something along the lines of – do we not destroy the integrity of something by loving it? To love is to destroy. 

But I am far too frustrated to consider any of the latter, and why should we ever have to consider, ponder, think and rethink, instead of simply claiming what calls to us, seeks us out in the most primal, basic and fundamental way. But I am also too swallowed into another one of this specie’s irksome offerings, and that is angry drunks. 

I make my way through the spaced out throngs of people standing in scattered groups around the crowded dancefloor. I tilt my head, not catching sight of Ashley anymore, who has taken to enjoying the music in a show of solitary sensuality at the front of the line that has been the sole perpetuator in that fourth drink I eventually decided upon. 

I’m met with Sophie’s back, as she leans against the balcony rails, smoke billowing from the cigarette between her fingers. I step outside, joining her against the railing and she greets me with a small smile. 

“Might I interest you in a bad social habit?” She asks coyly, extending her pack towards me. I smile back, reaching towards the pack and taking one out, the familiar feeling of puffing out smoke tempting my anxiety ridden lungs. 

I take a moment to look at her, as my right hands come up to help her shelter the fire as she offers to light my cigarette. There’s something very striking about her, and least of all it being her striking beauty. But it does lie somewhere between her distinct and regal jawline and the quiet softness of her eyes, both of which offer a loud specificity to her, one that makes her a lasting impression. 

“You’re a very beautiful woman” I find myself appraising her genuinely, before I laugh when I notice she’s taken quite aback. “I’m sorry” I backtrack after a tiny beat. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I was just stating the obvious”

I watch with a curious smile as she takes my answer in before she smiles brightly before letting out a throaty laugh. “It’s just, Ashley often said that you had a knack for saying things out of nowhere.” She gestures with her hand towards me, smiling still. “First time witnessing it.”

“They’re not really out of nowhere. I just tend to censor myself less where others might” I bring my drink to my lips, relishing in the sour after taste the lemon leaves upon my tongue, the fresh air and the onset of company keeping my jittery feelings at bay. “I believe Ashley thinks me to be far perkier than I actually am.”

“I believe that you are possibly as perky as Ashley thinks you to be, but mostly when you’re just around her.” She offers with a playful raise to her eyebrow, and I acquiesce with a tilt of my head and a noncommittal purse of my lips. “And thank you, for the compliment.”

“Thank you for the cigarette” I say in reply and she scoffs, shaking her head as she puts out her cigarette against the railing before throwing it in the overstuffed can next to her. “Don’t thank me for that”

“It’s undoubtedly not my biggest mishap of the evening, don’t let it eat away at you.” I roll my shoulders as the weight of the evening comes crashing back down upon them. Was it a mishap though? It wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. But just like everything else with Ashley, about Ashley, about Ashley and I, it has a cataclysmic potential of turning into torrents and winds before the first spot of lightening. Sophie’s looking at me strangely, and I turn my head from facing upfront to look at her, the city lights all that was really visible from the rooftop of the club we’re in. “I know it’s not my place to ask you this, but did something go wrong tonight?” 

I softly chuckle at her question as it follows my train of thoughts, taking a deep breath that comes up empty-worded. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Just nod morosely for a confirmation and shake your head vehemently to tell me to stop being paranoid”

“I’m not sure how to qualify what happened really.” So much has been left unsettled, unspoken and unprocessed. And I’m just not sure what chronology to follow anymore. Above all, I wanted Ashley to know that I went after her. Because as long as my tirade was, that was all I wanted to convey to her. I wanted her to know that her absence was eating away at me so much that I couldn’t have possibly not gone after her, disregarding of what went on after that. “I’m not sure how Ashley took any of what I had said and how I should act upon any of that”

She tilts her head, stabbing her drink with her straw a few times, and the remaining ice in her drink makes a crushing sound. “But what do you want?” 

“I want Ashley.”

She’s looking at me with such an awestruck expression, and I could almost see her physically recoil at my statement. “As simple as that?”

“I wasn’t aware there was any other way for it to be” But she wasn’t, certainly not with it coupled with Ashley. Because I know, as concretely as she does, that she’s never heard it in all of the conversations I am sure she’s had about me. Ashley has never said she wanted me. “And what does Ashley want?” She asks, after a breath, but she knows. 

“Ashley doesn’t know what she wants.” I shake my head at my own statement, it sounding wrong even to my ears and being forced out with wave after wave of frustration. Ashley always knows what she wants. She feels it, she feels what she wants deeply and incorporates it into everything she is and was. But there’s a big difference between knowing what you want, and wanting what you want. “Ashley is too afraid of wanting anything because she’s terrified it’ll run away.”

She nods, straining her back, as she turns around preparing to go back inside. I know this conversation had gotten a bit too uncomfortable, neither of us wishing to discuss Ashley with the other. “Maybe she just needs someone to hold her down, until the fear passes”

“Why didn’t you hold her down?” I ask before I can stop myself, because curiosity has always been my biggest vice, and I am curious, curious as to why Ashley isn’t still in France, being held down by a beautiful woman, happy with a beautiful woman who clearly loved her enough to still be such an integral part of her life. 

She doesn’t turn around, but she slides the doors back closed, the heavy music from inside instantly dying behind the soundproof glass. “I didn’t need to. There was nothing there she wanted.” She clears her throat, turning her body just enough to catch my eyes “You’re trying to fix the past. That’s good, admirable even. But maybe you should worry about the present a little more instead.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I push through the throngs of people, stopping as I catch sight of Dawn dancing closely next to Sophie as they both face the DJ set. I’m not really listening to the music, but as I catch sight of her silhouette a few feet away, I make myself listen. And for a second I’m not sure if she’s following the music, or if the music is melding itself to her body as she moves lusciously to a beat that she clearly owns. 

Her silhouette stands alone in a small circle, one hand grasping the metal bars surrounding the small stage as she lets her body sway, and before I can wonder for a second how no one is possibly trying to dance with her, the question is pushed back as I realise that I am even reluctant to impose. 

I make my way towards her, reaching with my right hand to cover hers upon the rails. I feel her stiffen against my front and I tighten my grip on top of her hand as she tries to retract it as I place my free hand on her hip, my chin coming to settle on her shoulder. “It’s me” 

She relaxes at my words but her body remains rigid against mine, and after a few moments pass I notice her not dancing again. I tighten my grip on her hip pressing myself flush against her back, my eyes closed, face turned and nuzzling into her hair and my hips driving hers to move to the same rhythm as mine. 

I feel her body mingling with mine as she becomes slack against me, and I push myself further into her, heavy mass of sweetness making my skin crawl with the need to possess every inch of her as her scent and the alcohol in my system send me on a flurry of sensations. I breathe her in deeply, and she alone filters the smell and presence of stale and sweaty crowds. 

I allow my hands to wander, trailing my right upwards against her bare flesh to gently grip her upper arm as my left strokes a leisurely path from her stomach to the tops of thighs. I feel her arm wrap around my neck as her fingers tangle in my hair, blunt nails scratching at my scalp and I press my content smile into her neck. I feel her shift, and her nose is nuzzling into mine. “What are you doing, Spencer?”

“I’m dancing with you.” I let my right hand drop from her upper arm to stroke greedily along a symmetrical thigh, grinding my front in slow circles into her backside. “I decided since all we do is dance around each other, I might as well starting doing it while dancing with you.”

“Spencer” she breathes my name out, her breath washing in a sweet breeze of her alcohol of choice against my lips, and I feel my stomach drop with a splash of warm liquid between my thighs. I dig my nails into her thighs, her eyes dipping closed simultaneously, rolling behind her eyelids and I feel my throat grow tight with the raging pulse of my chest at her reaction. 

She turns around, her other arm coming up to wrap around my neck but her eyes are open and I can see the moment is broken from the question in her eyes, and I allow it to be. “You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.” She say, tilting her head, her eyes boring into mine before they roam across my face, and I place my hands low on her back, pulling her closer into me. “But you’ve been very mad at yourself all night. I’m just a little confused.” Her head tilts to the other side, and I smile at her adorableness, smiling brighter because the woman in front of me still takes my breath away with her sheer capacity to be so many wonderful things in such short moments. “and a lot overwhelmed, I suppose” She adds after a beat. 

“I’m sorry” I tell her, trailing my fingers slowly up her back, willing my touch to be reassuring, to hold her down, but I sigh out tiredly, my head coming down from the adrenaline and the tiredness of the evening settling in. “I just want to make you happy, Ashley. I just want to know I can do that”

“Okay” She says, her voice tender against my cheek as she slowly nods. “Okay, Spencer.” She presses her lips to my shoulder, cradling the back of my neck in an invitation that I wholeheartedly accept as I rest my head in the crook of her neck. “We’ll do this, I want to talk about this. But let’s just not do this now, and here.”

“We look very weird, standing here like this, don’t we?” I mumble against her skin, not able and not wanting to stop myself from nuzzling it. “I don’t think anyone cares, really.” She says against my temple. 

“You know, when Dawn said friends playing at Grey’s, I thought more along the lines of indie folk, and not this.” I feel her chuckle against my hair, one of her hands slipping through the widely open back of my shirt to touch skin, open palmed and certain, and the kiss that I follow it with to her pulse point could not have been less apologetic. 

“I think she just wanted to try and grope Sophie to some sexy music.” Her voice had dropped an octave, and I stop myself from pressing another kiss to her neck if only to see how low her voice can get. “I’m definitely not complaining about the music” I say with a smile I know she can feel, and I let my eyes close at the sound of another throaty chuckle.


End file.
